


Lemongrass, Earth, and Honey

by Aurore33



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Feelings, Friends to Lovers, High School, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M, Omega Verse, Sexual Tension, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-09-25 16:12:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9828491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aurore33/pseuds/Aurore33
Summary: She scrutinized his sweaty countenance. He tried to give her a pretty smile that was really more of a grimace. His stomach was starting to roll again and a persistent headache was establishing its territory.“Okay,” she agreed. Her earthy eyes were wide with warmth and honesty and her cheeks were dusted pink. Oikawa blinked.Cute.Or the fic where Oikawa is class-sensitive (affected more heavily by ABO dynamics) and Yachi stumbles into the situation conveniently. They become friends.





	1. Summer Heat

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! First and foremost, I hope you enjoy the fic! There are a couple things I'd like to say before starting so here we go.  
> 1\. I didn't write this while referencing the manga or anime directly so some dates/times will probably be a bit off. (I know they didn't have a second practice match, but it had to happen okay? lol)  
> 2\. I know the characters are a bit OOC: this is on purpose! I think ABO dynamics would have a large effect. (especially in this chapter)  
> 3\. There won't be any smut in this fic (as far as I know right now although there is a lot of sexual tension in this chapter) and it will mostly be centered on a slow-build relationship between Oikawa and Yachi.  
> 4\. Although this is labeled ABO verse, I did make some stuff up so it won't follow those guidelines exactly either (sorry? xD)  
> 5\. Please enjoy and comment if the desire strikes :D
> 
> To rare pairs :) Cheers!  
> Oh and a mating proposal is only for one heat, bonding is long-term.

Oikawa didn’t think much about his status as an alpha. He knew it attracted attention, girls, even some boys, but it wasn’t a recent development so it never lingered in the forefront of his mind. Every year the school had a safety assembly focused on class-based protocol for “potentially dangerous” situations. He wasn’t even ashamed to admit that he usually dozed through those.

So, Oikawa didn’t really think much about classes. He was who he was and left it at that.

He realized that his indifference may eventually come back to bite him in the ass when one of the omegas in his class went into heat in the middle of a lesson. It only took two seconds for all the alphas in the room to stand and divert their attention to their whimpering classmate. Some even stepped forward. He barely registered their class representative, a beta, running to get help as their sensei attempted to cover the pheromone laden girl with a scent-blocking blanket. It really hadn’t helped much.

If the way his blood tingled through his veins whispering sweet release and consumption was any indication, Oikawa Tooru was without a doubt affected. Every shiver of her pretty pink lips, the flush on her face, the sweat that drew her hair close and wet on her brow, the _fucking_ pheromones that tasted like rain on scorched skin. So _hot_.

He could feel his muscles tightening, humid pants escaping from his parted mouth. His whole body reacted to the fire. He couldn’t remember the last time he was this hard and aching, sweat slipping between his shoulder blades. Only his fingers digging into the desk kept him where he stood, desperately trying to stay aware, _awake_. He didn’t want to succumb to the violent haze that attempted to pull him into a state of instinctual sexual frenzy. But _holy shit._

When the mated alphas and beta staff arrived to take control of the situation Oikawa had to fight crushing desolation at the missed mating opportunity and overwhelming relief at _not_ being forced to succumb. They were moved to a different room, given a “study hall” period for the rest of the day, and left to unwind. Oikawa felt that unwind was a bit of an understatement. Taking a pair of scissors to the tangle of instincts, emotions, and thoughts running through his head would definitely be a more effective way to “unwind.”

He hid his trembling fingers under the desk and pretended to nap, not lifting his head even when he heard some of his classmates mention him in passing conversation. His breathing was still on the heavy side, hitching with each remembrance. He wasn’t calming down and the constant state of agitation was wearing on his nerves.

Soft noises became loud, small vibrations large. Was that someone banging the desk or tapping their pencil against it? Talking or screaming? His own heartbeat seemed to drum into his mind, asking for war.

When they were finally released at the end of the day, Oikawa avoided his classmates and immediately headed toward the club room. He couldn’t even _think_ let alone try and _interact_ with someone. There was no sound past the greedy gulping of blood through the chambers of his heart.

“Oi, Shittykawa! I was talking to you—oh.” His head snapped toward the sluggish noise, eyes narrowing in on the approaching Alpha. A growl started to build in his throat. “Holy shit, are you okay?”

_No,_ he wanted to say. Scream. When he opened his mouth all he could feel was the churning of blood and the air that climbed out of his throat brutally tearing the walls.

“Oikawa, what the fuck happened?” Iwaizumi, that’s who it was, asked. Was he worried? He sounded kind of worried. His best friend grabbed his arm and Oikawa’s stomach heaved.

“I think I might puke,” Oikawa choked out, not sure why he felt like shoving the other Alpha away and fighting at the same time. Iwaizumi would never be a threat to him. His brain shied away from the touch, the pressure of another Alpha in his space.

“Oh, fuck,” he heard distantly, nauseously attempting to keep his balance as he was dragged away.

Iwaizumi told him later that he’d taken him to the nurse’s office as quickly as he could. Apparently, he’d still been suffering the effects of being exposed to an unmated Omega in heat. It wasn’t completely unusual, per say, but his symptoms lasted well into the night and the following morning even with the medication she gave him. The next morning, the nurse told him he was class sensitive to a debilitating degree.

It wasn’t something Oikawa expected to hear. It wasn’t even something he knew _existed_.

He didn’t know what he thought was wrong with him that afternoon, but it sure as hell wasn’t something like being “class sensitive” which was apparently when class dynamics affected you more severely.

He was a little bit in shock. “Surely if this exists, then aliens do too, right Iwa-chan?” he mumbled, half to himself, half to the wing spiker walking beside him. The only response was a sharp strike to the back of the head and a glowering presence.

“So mean, Iwa-chan!” he whined, brushing the strange thoughts away as he shoved the other Alpha.

His class sensitivity fell into a forgotten corner for the rest of the year. He’d never had territorial issues with other Alphas before and he’d never had much of a reaction to betas either which was probably why they hadn’t noticed it in the first place. There weren’t any omegas affiliated with the volleyball club, and the few than he passed in the halls all had muted scents and didn’t approach him.

He got sick after their match with Shiratorizawa simply due to the extremely potent atmosphere filled with alpha musk. The crushing defeat made the helplessness that much harder to bear. When they started their third year, he paid more attention to the safety assembly, but still was focused too much on volleyball to really mind it.

The next time he faced Shiratorizawa, he took nulling medication to reduce his sensitivity to the alpha musk and aggression. He couldn’t honestly say it hadn’t affected his performance. Another stone fell from the foundation that he built for himself. Another uncontrolled element added to his life that he couldn’t seem to overcome. Iwaizumi was supportive, but Oikawa could see how his own crumbling foundation only added to the weight on his best friend’s shoulders.

They held a summer training camp to prepare for Nationwide High School Volleyball Championship. Shortly after Karasuno won their preliminary matches, their advisors set up a practice match. Oikawa didn’t know how to feel about it, resenting Tobio, but also eager to play against him. He wouldn’t go so far to say that his blood boiled at the thought of crushing his damned cute kouhai, but there was definitely some increase in pressure.

“Oikawa-san, you have that scary look on your face again,” Kindaichi pointed out tentatively.

“Ah, Kindaichi-kun! Just excited for the match!” he flashed him a sparkly smile. The beta smiled back tentatively and turned back to Kunimi. The bus lurched gently and Oikawa turned his attention to Iwaizumi.

“Don’t even start, Trashykawa,” he stated, turning to look out the window. Oikawa clutched his chest dramatically and gaped at the wing spiker.

“Iwa-chan! Why are you so mean! You didn’t even know what I was going to say!”

“I can’t wait to crush Tobio-chan into little shards of broken bone,” Iwaizumi mimed Oikawa, making his voice higher and waving his hands around.

Scandalized, Oikawa forced his best friend’s hands down. “I don’t sound like that,” he whined.

“But you didn’t deny that that’s what you were going to say.”

Oikawa huffed and crossed his arms. “Whatever, Iwa-chan. Let me know when you’re off your man period.”

Iwaizumi just rolled his eyes and returned his gaze to the passing landscape.

They arrived around ten o’clock which left Oikawa grinning with the thought that maybe they could grind his little kouhai down in multiple matches. Karasuno’s manager met them at the front of the school and escorted them to the gym.

Oikawa hummed happily as he heard the familiar sound of shoes streaking across the court and the smack of spiked balls. They entered the gym, greeting the rival team and their coach before setting their bags on the bench. He stretched and tested his knee gently. ‘Today will be a good day for volleyball,’ he decided contentedly.

Iwaizumi herded them onto the court to start their warm ups as Oikawa began evaluating their moods. Kunimi seemed more lively, but Hanamaki and Matsukawa both looked a bit downtrodden. They were probably fighting again.

Taking deep breaths, he focused on the stretch of his muscles and the positioning of his body. If there was one thing he did like about Karasuno, it was the fact that their team was diverse in class dynamic. Shiratorizawa was extremely alpha heavy and unfortunately, it was the common trend for most sports teams. Even Seijoh had a high alpha to beta ratio with no omegas.

Oikawa rubbed the tip of his nose gently. Watari and Yahaba looked fairly normal and Iwaizumi was nothing if not consistent as he hit Oikawa’s toss.

There was a bit of a commotion at the other end of the gym. The little shrimp and Tobio were yelling about something. Oikawa’s head lifted to watch as Karasuno’s captain approached the two with a stern look on his face. Gleefully, he hoped Tobio would be scolded, but was surprised by the concern they received instead. Well, whatever.

It happened halfway during the first set. Maybe if Oikawa had been paying closer attention to the shrimp, he could have seen it coming, but he didn’t. He hadn’t even realized that the shrimp was an omega to be honest. Tobio always kept him close and away from others which was starting to make _a lot_ of sense _now._

Seijoh had a free ball off of one of Oikawa’s serves and Watari went in for the receive when the orange-haired middle blocker gasped quietly and fell to his knees. Oikawa felt like his arms were fighting through molasses as they moved to toss. Then the scent hit him.

Sun, spice, salt, with an undertone of candy sweetness. Oh… fuck… His chest constricted and a saturated air rushed through his lungs. He was so _close_. Just across the net. Fuck. He panted, skin prickling and alpha musk spreading into the gym against his will. A low rumble trickled out through his parted mouth as his eyes locked on the wide-eyed omega. Fuck.

Tobio lost it. While Oikawa had the control to at least plant his feet through sheer stubbornness, the raven-haired setter was immediately at his partner’s side. An odd hybrid sound between a growl and a purr resonated from the boy as he tried to wrap himself around the small omega. The betas in the gym looked on horrified, but hesitant to approach the phased alpha.

Oikawa wasn’t sure how long it took for _someone_ to move the omega out of the gym. He wasn’t even sure it wasn’t just Tobio himself carting the poor thing away. He did know that the reaction he was having to the sweet pheromones in the air kept trying to pull him into oblivion. Kept trying to drown him in candy-scented pleasure and debauchery. Don’t succumb. Oikawa held back a moan as his entire body trembled from being tense too long.

“Oh fuck, Oikawa,” he heard distantly. Sweat slipped down his thighs. He thought it was Iwaizumi leading him outside, but he couldn’t smell anything past his own stench. He couldn’t see anything past the image of wide brown eyes and a panting wet mouth.

“Sit right here, I’m going to find something to help you.”

There was something rough under his palms as he was pushed down to sit against a wall. It allowed him to focus enough to see Iwaizumi leave. Oikawa’s head dropped to his bent knees. Fuck. His stomach started to twist and roll with the beat of his blood. His gaze went blurry again as he tilted his head to the side. Vague thoughts of a heat stroke passed through his mind before it returned to an aroused frenzy. He didn’t even notice he wasn’t alone until there was a hand directly on the sweaty, burning skin of his forehead.

A broken moan left his moist lips. It felt so _good_. It felt so cool, soothing. His eyes blearily rotated in search of the source of comfort, head lifting. He sniffed gently, tentatively. Moist earth and honey, with a hint of lemongrass he would decide later. Now, it just smelled like _home_. Like _safety._ His breath hissed out as he struggled to stand.

“Shhh, it’s okay, you’re going to be okay, just settle back down.” The scent washed over him again as fingers pressed on his rising shoulder. The desire to obey was strong, but the need to relax into the scent was stronger so he pushed up and stumbled forward.

There was a girl in front of him. She was small, slender, with large, earthy brown eyes and he just needed to _hold her._ Or be held by her, he really _wasn’t_ picky – he was _desperate._

Even her voice was soft like the water running through a mountain stream. “Woah, don’t push yourself. Just… eep!” He fell forward with his arms reaching, hands grasping. His face pressed against the black of her jacket as his knees gave out. Better. He sighed quickly, savoring the subsequent inhale.

“I’m sorry,” he managed to choke out even as his arms caged her firmly against him. She was stiff.

“Ah... I... um... it’s okay?” she responded carefully. He didn’t say anything else as his breathing started to even out and his pulse calmed. After a few minutes, her palm dropped to rest on his head, fingers splayed evenly through the sweaty strands of his damp hair. She began to relax at his statuesque behavior.

“Are you okay?” she questioned.

“Feel sick. You smell good,” he explained, trailing his nose unabashedly against her jacket with small huffs. “Comforting.” An airy blush blew across his cheeks.

“Oh… like when you’re sick and your mom takes care of you?” She sounded more confident. Innocent.

“Mmmm,” he agreed. After a few moments, her fingers started to play through his hair, nails caressing his scalp lightly. His eyes drifted shut and a rumbling purr rose to greet her attention. Her motion stopped, startled for a moment, but resumed before he had to request it. He felt the vibrations from her silent laugh.

He noticed the approaching footsteps and only pressed closer to the girl in response, loath to give up his position. “Yachi, are you alright?”

Oikawa’s arms tightened possessively. He wasn’t sure what was driving it, but the desire to be close to her had only grown. An aggravated growl vibrated out of his throat.

“Yachi?” She jerked slightly, fingers knotting in his hair when she attempted to raise her hand. His muscles jerked in response, adrenaline flooding his blood. She stumbled a bit at the force of his movement, but managed to keep her footing.

“Yes, I’m fine. Sorry,” she laughed nervously, hand returning its previous soothing movement. “He said he feels sick? Did something happen?” Her fingers travelled towards the bare skin on his neck, rubbing relaxing circles at his hairline. His head dropped heavily and a breathy sigh raced down her clothes.

“Hinata went into heat on the court,” the voice explained. It took Oikawa a moment to realize that the girl had stopped breathing.

“He _what?_ Is he okay? I thought it wasn’t scheduled for another week. What if… was anyone else triggered?” she spluttered, heartrate increasing. A sour tinge tainted her scent from the worry.

Oikawa growled loudly and turned to look at the intruder, disliking the stress that the other male caused her. He wanted that warm, fresh honey with a spike of healthy lemongrass scent back.

“Where is Hinata right now? He’s _okay_ right?”

“Yachi, you need to calm down. Oikawa-san is class sensitive and he may react to your agitation aggressively,” a dark-haired male cautioned. The blonde started to breathe faster.

“Y-you didn’t answer any of my questions. Is he _not_ okay?” she whispered. Oikawa grit his teeth and pushed to his feet. His body felt weak, but the need to protect and comfort sang through his exhausted nerves. His nose brushed a curious path up to her bare neck, resting briefly at the warm junction where her shoulder and neck met before he lifted his head away to face the others. Fuck he hated this sensitivity.

“Shittykawa, you need to sit back down.” Iwaizumi was here.

He tilted his head and stared at the bearer of bad news with half-lidded irritation. His alpha musk started to permeate aggressively. The girl cowered behind him and he heard a quiet, “so tall!”

“What happened?” he gritted out. The two men in front of them inspected him silently. He increased the pressure, but hesitated when he felt small fingers in his jersey. Her comforting scent attempted to calm him, but he grasped her hand firmly in his and forcefully met her gaze.

“You want to know.” Her eyes averted to the dirt briefly before reconnecting with his.

“Yes,” she admitted softly.

“What. Happened?” he repeated, a growl lining each word. Iwaizumi started to step forward, but Oikawa sent him a nasty look. The girl pressed into his back and it allowed his thoughts to clear somewhat. Fuck he needed to calm down. His hand squeezed hers desperately looking for some form of control.

“Kageyama bit Hinata before we could get between them. They’ll be spending his heat together,” dark-haired-kun admitted, pushing his glasses up and running his hands through his hair awkwardly.

A shaky laugh left Oikawa’s open mouth. A quickly blurted “Oh” followed from the blonde before she slipped her hands free to cover her face. Oikawa looked down at her over his shoulder and felt a familiar smirk tug at his lips at the sight of her flustered face.

“I’m sure they will be okay,” the man tried to comfort her.

Finally gaining the courage, she lowered her hands. After a quick glance at the speaker, she averted her gaze and shuffled her feet. “I know,” she admitted, the words barely audible; the blush on her cheeks increased. “I’m not surprised, really.” Followed by an extremely embarrassed, “It will be good for them.”

Oikawa took a discrete sniff of her floral scented embarrassment. Iwaizumi stared right at him. The setter pouted and stuck his tongue out.

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes dismissively. “Looks like Oikawa is feeling the same as usual.”

Despite the lethargy in his gut, he turned back to the girl and gave her a wink. “All thanks to my little flower!” She spluttered and stepped back from him abruptly. He felt something in his chest lurch away with her.

“Wait,” he whined, trying to refrain from chasing her down. “Don’t abandon me!” She looked terrified and took another step back.

“He could use your presence for a bit longer, Yachi. If you’re willing.” For the first time, Oikawa felt grateful that dark-haired-kun was there. “He’s going to suffer from being exposed to Hinata’s heat pheromones for a while longer, but I think your omega scent helps counteract it.”

She scrutinized his sweaty countenance. He tried to give her a pretty smile that was really more of a grimace. His stomach was starting to roll again and a persistent headache was establishing its territory.

“Okay,” she agreed. Her earthy eyes were wide with warmth and honesty and her cheeks were dusted pink. Oikawa blinked. _Cute_.

Oikawa stayed within touching distance of the girl, _Yachi_ , while they waited for the gym to finish airing out. Karasuno gave the two more than one strange look, some aggressive, some just confused. They continued even after dark-haired-kun, Takeda-sensei according to Iwaizumi, explained the situation to them. The wing spiker explained it to Seijoh and Oikawa received more than one eyeroll at the peace sign he slipped around the girl’s back.

The truth though, was that he was _exhausted_. Even though the heat scent wasn’t present, just knowing other alphas were nearby made Oikawa’s skin prickle unpleasantly. More than once he’d tested stepping away from the small omega, but snapped back like an overdrawn bow. He’d been forced to recover with his nose pressed straight against the girl’s shoulder and mental rocking to distract from the nausea. He barely caught her worried look in the haze.

When the teams filed back into the gym to resume the match after a quick warmup, Oikawa glanced at the court mournfully. _Yachi_ , he reminded himself, still looked extremely embarrassed at the attention they were garnering. He really should have felt bad about it.

He really shouldn’t have taken advantage of it.

They settled on one of the benches that Takeda-sensei pointed out to them. The tall setter made sure to direct the blonde to the end of the bench and slipped right up against her side, arm looping around her shoulders. He might not have been able to play in the match, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t manipulate his opponents. He sent a playful smirk at the gawking players.

It was a bit cruel. She was forced to take his weight or fall off the end of the bench, but she seemed fine other than her flushed cheeks.

Oikawa attempted to keep up the teasing, but eventually Karasuno turned their attention to the game and he was left alone. He really wasn’t doing so well without the distraction. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes. Fuck.

“Maybe…” a quick inhale. “Maybe you should lay down?”

Her eyes were focused on his hands, his fingers that gripped the bench stubbornly. He could smell her concern.

“My head just feels really heavy,” he admitted, feeling her gaze dart to his face quickly. He kept his eyes on the court.

“Lay down?” she repeated gently. The alpha in him was quick to obey, stretching his legs across the bench and head thunking down on the wood heavily. Oikawa fought against the twinge of helplessness that paraded through his muscles. He wondered if her control over him was due to his sensitivity or if it was a normal dynamic. It certainly didn’t _feel_ normal.

“Sorry,” she mumbled. He watched her angle her body toward him and reach for his temples. A tentative purr left his chest at the remembrance of her caress. He quickly averted his eyes with a shallow blush. A mixture of annoyance and embarrassment swirled through him: volatile and quick. He hadn’t been this awkward since elementary school when his instincts had begun to interfere with his daily life.

“Please relax...” A soft breath, cool fingers. She scooted closer and he took the opportunity to pillow his head on her thigh. She paused, but didn’t pull away. Every swirl of her fingers and tangle in his hairline allowed the heaviness to drain a little more. Each soothing touch allowed more agitation to slip away.

He hated being sensitive. Today wasn’t supposed to be a wreck of instinctual reactions and weakness. He hated how he couldn’t act like himself when the alpha in him awakened. He didn’t want to be some alpha; he wanted to be _Tooru_.

“I… ah… I can stop if you want to rest?” she offered.

Oikawa shook his head incrementally. “Please don’t stop,” he mumbled sullenly. As if sensing his inner turmoil, she leaned over his tilted head to look in his eyes.

“You aren’t feeling better.” Oikawa didn’t realize it had become autumn already. What else would explain the skeleton trees of his mind and the ease with which she read his emotions.

He couldn’t even pull out his fake smile and spit out a ‘I’m perfectly fine!’

He looked away.

They didn’t speak again until the matches were over and Oikawa sat up. “Thank you for your help,” he said briskly, wanting to at least make it to the bus before doubling over. Hopefully the sickness wouldn’t last as long as it did last time. He shuddered internally.

“Thank you very much for yours as well!” she replied, bowing low. She rose gracefully, eyeing him with large, warm eyes. She stood still for a moment before stepping forward with something small in her hands. “I think… that there are many things to thank you for, but for now, please accept this!” She held out a small face towel with stars and flowers stitched into the light green cloth. Her fingers were trembling.

Oikawa was surprised. It wasn’t the first time a girl had offered him a token in hopes he would accept a mating proposal, but it was pretty rare. As much as he enjoyed her scent and touch, something about it felt unnatural. He didn’t _know_ her at all. Not to mention, his devotion to volleyball wouldn’t allow him to miss practice anyway.

He placed his hands over hers, surprised by how small they actually were. “I’m sorry but I can’t accept your gift, Flower-chan,” he explained, shaking his head softly. Their eyes connected and he tried to convey his regret. A few seconds later her calm façade crumbled into blooming red then a horrified white.

“I’m not asking for a mating!” she squeaked, looking around to make sure nobody heard them. Oikawa interrupted her blooming embarrassment after allowing the floral scent to settle on his tongue for a moment too long.

“What?”

“It’s for the bus ride back,” she explained, wrinkling the cloth. “When I was younger I had a lot of trouble leaving home without my mom. She would always give me something that smelled like her to calm me down,” she admitted. She continued softly: “I just thought it might help, but you don’t have to-.”

“No, I’ll take it! Thank you very much!” He pulled at the cloth insistently, not sure exactly why his heart was beating so quickly.

“I’m sorry for the misunderstanding.”

Oikawa chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. “You really surprised me. But after everything you’ve done for me today, I can’t thank you enough.” He caught sight of Iwaizumi approaching them.

Yachi had a small frown on her face as her eyes explored him. “You don’t owe me anything, Oikawa-san.” She sounded determined. “Please feel better.” She bowed quickly and retreated to the other side of the gym where Karasuno’s other manager was talking with the coach.

It didn’t take long for Seijoh to gather their belongings and head back toward the front of the school. On a whim, Oikawa turned back and shot Yachi a small wave. He smiled a bit playfully, glad to see an answering smile past the pink of her cheeks. At least some things didn’t change.

Kindaichi was very vocal about how disappointed he was that they couldn’t play Kageyama and the shrimp. Oikawa tuned him out, taking the window seat for the ride back. The cloth helped nearly as much as contact with her had. The refreshing earthy lemongrass and honey settled pleasantly in his chest with each inhale. The drumming pain was barely tickling his temples.

“How are you?”

He turned to Iwaizumi with tired eyes. “I’m perfect!” The utter lack of zeal in Oikawa’s tone made the wing spiker laugh. “Just tired,” he explained, leaning his head back against the seat.

“No headache? Nausea?”

“Nope.” He popped the p. “Flower-chan gave me something to help with it,” he bragged, keeping the towel folded safely in his palm. At the pointed look from his best friend he brought his hand to his nose and inhaled dramatically, slowly unfurling his fingers to reveal the minty green of the cloth.

“Let me see,” the spiker demanded.

“No, no, Iwa-chan! It’s mine!” Oikawa laughed and took another quick inhale before tucking it away safely. “Are you jealous?”

Iwaizumi’s mutinous glare answered the question easily. “No.”

“Ow! Iwa-chan that hurts! Stoppp!”

“Shut up, Shittykawa!”


	2. Once More

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter felt rushed >_< and honestly I feel very meh about the flow. I'm sorry! It went through a lot of events in the manga/anime so I didn't want to linger on what was already written. Furudate Haruichi has done an amazing job with the manga, and any dialogue or scenes referenced belong to him 100%! Well, eh, either way, enjoy :)

The rest of September passed uneventfully. Oikawa’s sickness had passed by nightfall and while he felt a bit restless, there didn’t seem to be any after effects. They had won their practice matches the next day and returned to school on the Monday after.

Oikawa yawned and leaned against the door to the club room, waiting for Iwaizumi to leave. It was late. He wanted to go home.

“So slow, Iwa-chan!” he complained. The door opened a moment later and the dark-haired wing spiker stepped out. There was a scowl on his face.

“You’re one to talk, usually I have to physically drag you to make it to practice on time.”

“That isn’t my fault! The girls just naturally gravitate toward me! It’s not like that’s something _you_ have to worry about,” he jabbed.

“I _don’t_ worry about it.”

“Of course, of course.” Oikawa waved the comment away airily. He locked the room quickly and slipped the key into his bag.

“You better not stay up all night again,” Iwaizumi threatened, glowering at the casual setter.

“Are you worrying about me again, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa winked at him, “Don’t I look like I get my beauty sleep every night?” Seijoh’s ace kicked him square in the back, making him shriek as he stumbled into the railing.

“OW. Iwa-chan! What if I fell!”

“Good riddance,” he bit in reply.

Oikawa pouted and strolled down the steps, heading toward the station. “You’re so mean.”

The cicadas buzzed through the stillness of the night. Oikawa let out a careful breath, turning his gaze to the stars. Their match against Karasuno was approaching quickly; he was sure the crows would beat the other teams in the playoffs. They weren’t weak anymore and he couldn’t help but feel excited at the thought of playing against them again. Obviously, the practice match didn’t count because he hadn’t even _played_.

An image of earthy eyes and pale golden hair flashed through his mind. He let out a thoughtful hum. He wasn’t sure what to make of her. She didn’t crowd him like his fangirls, but she wasn’t indifferent to him either. She was interesting. Her presence blanketed like the snowfall, but it wasn’t oppressive.

Iwaizumi fell into step beside him. “Are you thinking about Karasuno again?”

Does he read minds? Oikawa looked to his best friend suspiciously. “Why would you think that?” he answered noncommittally.

“Your scent changed.”

Oikawa gawked him. “Rude! Insensitive!” he yelled, pointing his finger straight at the other boy. “You aren’t supposed to point those things out!” Internally he cringed a bit. His scent changed when he thought of Karasuno? That’s so embarrassing – this whole time…

“Who cares? I’ve known you since birth.”

“Still!”

Oikawa swiped his card and moved onto the platform to wait for the train. He shot Iwaizumi a sulky glare. Why wouldn’t he tell him earlier? Why did he have to mention it now? The setter crossed his arms.

“You need to stop worrying about them.” Iwaizumi forced his way into Oikawa’s line of sight. “I’m serious, Tooru. You need to relax or you’re going to burn out before the match even begins. You’re already practicing after normal hours.”

Oikawa let his eyes drop at the sound of his first name. Iwaizumi only used it when he wanted to emphasize a point. It felt like he was being scolded by his mother.

“I know my limits, _Hajime_ ,” he shot back, feeling slighted and a bit guilty.

“I hope you do,” the other male muttered as the train rattled to a slow stop. He stepped on and Oikawa followed him quietly. They didn’t speak for the short ride back to their neighborhood and the subsequent disembarkment. Oikawa fiddled with the zipper on his bag, fingers itching and restless.

The streetlights left a soft glow on the sidewalk. They made it to Iwaizumi’s house before he spoke again. “I know how much this means to you,” he reminded the setter. “I don’t want to see you disappointed.” Without waiting for a reply, the wing spiker walked the short path to the entrance and disappeared inside.

Oikawa turned and walked the remaining block to his own house. “You’re really too cool, Iwa-chan,” he muttered. He couldn’t remember a time when the older boy hadn’t been watching out for him. He stepped inside the house, removed his shoes, and called a quiet “tadaima.”

His mother looked up from the muted TV. Subtitles flashed across the screen lazily. She must have been watching foreign dramas again.

“Okaerinasai, Tooru.” She scrutinized his appearance before her lips twitched into a small smile. “I haven’t drained the bath yet. You should soak.” His heart thumped. Maybe Iwaizumi wasn’t the only one worried about him.

“Thanks, Okaasan.” He trudged to his room and put his bag on his dresser.

Soaking in the tub was relaxing, but he had too much on his mind. It didn’t take long for him to climb out of the warm water and return to his room. He wandered to the kitchen to grab a glass of water and gave his mother a passing “oyasuminasai.”

“Don’t stay up too late,” she called toward the sound of his steps on the tatami mats.

“I won’t,” he promised. He set the water down and slid the door to his room shut.

He studied for a couple of hours, finishing his homework and preparing for the quiz scheduled for the day after. A yawn forced its way across the muscles of his face, stretching them to satisfaction. His eyes watered and he stood up, arranging his arms behind his head to loosen them. He pulled his futon out and set it up wearily, shutting off his lamp.

Despite his physical exhaustion, his mind wouldn’t stop racing. Homework, quiz, volleyball, serves, spikes, did I lock the door? He rolled over and stared at the winking light of his computer’s power button. Ten minutes passed. He forced his eyes closed. Thirty. That only made it worse. Frustrated, he reached over to turn his lamp back on and accidently knocked a notebook to the ground.

He crawled out of his futon with a curse and grabbed the notebook, shoving it back onto the desk. There was a stained shadow on the mat. He reached forward and grabbed it, bringing the shadowed cloth closer to his face to identify it in the darkness. Lemongrass and honey tingled across his nose. Oh.

He pulled it closer a bit tentatively and took another sniff. The scent was faint, but it rushed across his overstimulated neurons like a cool breeze. A purr got caught in his throat as phantom memories ghosted through his mind.

He shuffled back onto his futon with the cloth firmly gripped in his hand. He probably should have felt a bit guilty, but it wasn’t like anyone would _know_. Besides, he had promises to keep.

He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, pulling the relaxing scent deep into his lungs. His thumb and forefinger rubbed the soft fabric gently, lulled by his heartbeat. It didn’t take long for his body to melt into the warm, transparent cloud of sleep.

October was rough. The volleyball team practiced harder than ever and with the addition of Kyoutani, tensions were high every day. Oikawa did what he could and Iwaizumi helped him mediate, but it was like sand paper on his nerves. Every day they were rubbed a little bit more raw.

He definitely wouldn’t call it a habit, but he had occasionally kept the mint shaded face cloth near his pillow since that night near the end of September. On the rough nights when he felt too much, the nights when the day tried to drag on, or the ones when the pin-drop silence was overbearing, he’d reach out and tangle his fingers in the worn cotton.

Her scent faded from it a little more every day.

The beginning of the representative playoffs crept up quickly, though. An aggressive energy saturated his plays on the court and followed him into his interactions with the team. He was serious about winning this tournament, and he wouldn’t take anything except full commitment. He would make them understand this passion; he would make them appreciate it.

They entered Sendai gymnasium on the morning of the twenty-fifth with renewed confidence. They were ready. Oikawa felt static energy sifting through his muscles. He’d decided to refrain from using the nulling medication, feeling like the side-effects were too high for it to be worth it. He would willingly take a few days of sickness after their victory if it meant they were at their best.

“Our first match is on court B against Dewa Ichi,” their coach stated, scanning his clipboard. “I expect you all to be on time for warm-ups.” Oikawa forced his smile into something light and airy. The wild beat of his anticipation wouldn’t help him here.

The team split and Oikawa fell into step beside his best friend. “You seem excited,” the wing spiker observed absently.

“Of course! I only bring my best to every match!” Oikawa assured, sneaking in a peace sign. He stuck his tongue out for good measure, making the other boy roll his eyes. “One must have strength and conviction to lead an empire to victory!”

“Oi. Shitty-kawa, we aren’t your soldiers and this isn’t a war.”

Oikawa gave him a playful side-eye and tilted his head back humorously. “Isn’t it though?”

His response was a knowing look and an eye roll. “Focus on the match and don’t get carried away by your imagination, ba-ka.”

“Hai, hai, commander!” Oikawa sang, smile stretching across his face happily. Iwaizumi would always understand.

Their antics were interrupted by the strange sight of Hinata creeping toward the men’s bathroom. Was that a square stance? What the hell?

“What’re you doing?” he inquired. If nothing else, the shrimp would always be unpredictable. Oikawa smirked down at the anxious player. He may have felt bad about the effect his alpha presence might have on the little omega if he hadn’t been such an inconvenience at the practice match. In fact, he was eager for a bit of revenge.

Iwaizumi stepped in. “I heard you beat a two-meter-tall guy. Not bad.”

The small middle blocker stuttered out a: “Yes!! Not at all!” and Oikawa nearly burst out laughing at the frustrated look on his friend’s face.

“Well, which is it?” the wing spiker demanded dryly.

Oikawa felt the needy tendrils of that feral grin creep onto his face. He stepped over the orange-haired boy and leaned into his space. “Seeing as this little guy becomes a real threat when it’s game time, shall we bury him somewhere while we have the chance?” Sadistic satisfaction flooded him at the horrified look shot his way and the blurted “E-excuse meee!” as the boy pivoted and ran. Oikawa did have a brief flash of regret as he noted the sheer athletic ability in the movement.

He wasn’t expecting the boy to run straight into Ushiwaka.

“Hinata Shouyou… plus Oikawa and Iwaizumi, huh.” Oikawa’s teeth ground together heavily at the casual acknowledgement. It pissed him off to no end.

“What’s with this timing?” he said lowly, scowling.

“Like I’d know,” Iwaizumi replied, equally as pissed.

“This is the final high school tournament for you two, isn’t it? I wish you the best of luck.” If there had been aggressive energy moving through his muscles before, it just flash heated his blood to boiling point because his nerves were on fire.

“You _reaaaaally_ piss me off,” he growled angrily, knowing that Alpha musk was leaking steadily from both him and Iwaizumi.

“We’ll be going to nationals, so this won’t be our last,” Seijoh’s ace spit, glaring at the other ace challengingly.

“There’s only one representative spot for nationals, though?” If they went one more moment without an interruption, Oikawa was sure he was going to erupt like a volcano and sink an island. The lack of ill-intent in the observation was like pouring oil onto an already raging fire and Oikawa was positive that Ushiwaka, the damned block of wood, wouldn’t be the only casualty.

Karasuno’s small sun opened his mouth and stuttered out a declaration that Oikawa barely heard. His head snapped to the boy and an agitated growl rumbled out through his throat. _Karasuno_ was _not_ going to be the winner. A player from Date-kou stepped up behind the boy and Ushiwaka turned away.

Oikawa shoved his trembling fists into his jacket.

“We will challenge all comers,” the tall wing-spiker declared, striding away. The setter watched him retreat with a calculating glare. So much for calming down to focus before the match. He was lucky Ushiwaka hadn’t responded with his own musk or Oikawa probably would’ve gotten nauseous later.

“Mukatsuku,” he spat, turning away. He could feel Iwaizumi’s silent agreement. Oikawa’s emotions swirled through him like a maelstrom waiting to cause carnage.

Seijoh beat Dewa Ichi pretty easily, taking the first two sets with no challenges. It didn’t cool the fire sparking through Oikawa’s mind and the constant stimulation was wearing on his mental fortitude. After cooling down and stretching, they bused back to school. He and Iwaizumi dropped their bags at home before heading out on a run.

Even the exercise only allowed so much asphyxiation of the blaze.

He took a long bath, staring at the wall until he just couldn’t endure sitting in one place anymore.

If Karasuno won their match tomorrow, they would play against Seijoh.

Oikawa tried to remind himself that he still had a match to win before that happened. His antsy thoughts didn’t agree.

Seijoh would win against Datekougyou, they were a threat with the third years still on the team, but they hadn’t stayed. Besides, Oikawa was confident in his ability to evade their block.

He clenched his fist. The flexibility of Karasuno was another issue entirely. Their offense was stronger than it had been before, but their defense had improved by leaps and bounds. More than once, he’d caught snippets of the amazing receives they had pulled off or the decisive blocks.

He blew out his breath and fell back onto his futon. And they had synchronized attacks? There were so many new elements. He was so _excited_. Fuck.

He pulled his pillow over his face and tried to at least organize his thoughts. As long as Tobio was setting, their lineup would be the same as usual. Last time, they’d countered Hinata’s quick with receives, but would that work again? He’d heard rumors that it had evolved, and it wasn’t like they saw it during their practice matches. A scowl crawled onto his face. Stupid Chibi-kun going into heat and ruining everything. He paused as a thought crossed his mind. Tobio and Hinata spent the heat together. Did they evolve their quick _after_ they spent his heat together? Was that why they seemed so in sync now? Bare skin and friction stripped through his retinas.

Oikawa groaned and smashed his face into the abused pillow. _Why_ was he thinking about this? It was completely _irrelevant_. Aliens. Abductions. UFOs. Tests. Powers. Stars. Night. Planets. Wet lips and a needy moan. The thoughts wouldn’t go _away_.

He checked his phone desperately, but didn’t have any texts. Iwaizumi must be sleeping already, the bastard.

Another way to unwind crossed his mind, but he immediately struck it down. He was _not_ risking an image of his kouhai fucking his omega popping up while he was trying to get off.

He dragged himself to his desk and pushed two books apart to reveal the face cloth. He _told_ himself he _wasn’t_ going to do this during the competition unless it was an emergency. Fuck. He swallowed. This was an emergency.

He still didn’t sleep well. He woke up disoriented multiple times during the night and had to fumble for the stupid cloth just to calm his heart again. He wasn’t _nervous_ , damn it.

If he didn’t win these matches, this would be his last high school tournament.

Oikawa was careful to close the front door gently and met up with Iwaizumi. He wore his headphones for the walk to the station, catchy music pulling his brain into an irresistible lull. Iwaizumi called it pop trash, but Oikawa loved how it could pull you into its sway and trap you.

They didn’t talk much. Even after they met the others and took the bus over to the gymnasium, words were only softly exchanged or left untouched. It was a comforting kind of understanding that helped the setter focus.

Karasuno’s captain was injured during the first set of their match with Wakunan. They still won.

Datekougyou had a tall first year setter to fortify their iron wall. Aoba Jousai still won.

The teams were like two opposing forces unable to avoid collision.

For all the unease and excess energy he had dealt with earlier, now he just felt ready. Focused. He looked over at Karasuno spiking balls during their warm up. Something definitely felt different about them.

A stray ball rolled near him and he ended up in a tug-of-war for it with Tobio. Alpha musk started to leak off the two as they fought. While Oikawa was having fun grinding his damned cute kouhai’s hopes into dust, he was also having a slight recollection of the night before. He let go of the ball quickly and Tobio fell backwards ass-over-head. It was fucking hilarious. He didn’t even care about Hanamaki’s jab about his age, he couldn’t stop laughing.

He wasn’t laughing when Yachi almost got hit in the face by a stray volleyball. Luckily, their third-year manager smacked it down safely before it could do any damage. Oikawa’s heart thumped heavily. He jogged over to them, glancing at Yahaba in confusion for a moment. What was he doing on Karasuno’s side of the court?

“Ah, sorry about that ball, we’ll try to handle them more carefully from this point on,” he apologized, bowing at the two girls. He sent Yachi a sheepish smile and turned around. He was a bit too tempted to hang around so he could catch of whiff of her scent. His reliance was really starting to become a problem. He really shouldn’t have used the cloth so frequently. Or well, at all really. Damn it.

“Oikawa-san?” he froze at her tentative call. He looked back over his shoulder, and forced the appearance of an overly cheerful smile. She was already blushing nervously.

“What is it, Flower-chan?” She shifted her feet and averted her eyes for a moment. Her lips parted as if to speak, but nothing came out. She wet them and tried again, eyes widening a bit and fists clenching.

“Please work hard! Ah… ah- I mean- Do your best!” Her words stumbled out nervously. She subtly inched behind the third year. Oikawa felt a genuine smile try to slip through his façade. Asking your opponent to do their best? Now that was just cruel.

“Of course!” He winked and jogged back to his team with a feathery feeling in his loose muscles. The glares from Karasuno’s players only made him lighter.

Oikawa joined Sawamura for the tossing of the coin. Serving first. The teams were called to line up then gathered around their respective coaches.

It was time. He would always bear the weight of his role in the match, but the pressure was balanced between the six of them. He wasn’t alone.

“Well then, I’ll be-“

“We’re counting on you, Captain.”

They lost.

One moment, he was entrusted with their faith and in the next, the ball struck loudly on the court behind him. His arms still tingled from the impact.

It was over. Just like that. He felt… a bit empty. No rushing emotions. No frustration. No relief.

He shook Sawamura’s hand, trying to convey _something_. Was it his desire for them to crush Shiratorizawa? Was it his respect? Oikawa couldn’t put a name to it, but he could feel it through the emptiness like a transparent film.

He locked eyes with Tobio.

“This makes one win and one loss. Don’t let it go to your head, got it?”

A moment. “I won’t.”

Their coach gave them words on the match. He gave what support he could muster to Iwaizumi. They lined up in front of the stands. Bowed. Thank you very much.

Time to pack up. Leave. An undercurrent of annoyance prickled across his unusually barren mind.

Ushiwaka strolled down the hall. He sent him a sneer.

The usual explosive irritation didn’t push forward, only a steadily growing determination. Ushiwaka could say all he wanted about the outcome. He wasn’t going to second guess himself and he wasn’t going to be weighed down by any regrets.

A calm confidence surrounded him like a fur coat. His lips twisted as he challenged the ace. This was not the end. Oikawa turned his back to Ushijimi with a wry warning on his lips: “If I’m the only one you’re keeping an eye on, you’ll find yourself gutted through unexpected means. A murder of crows might even be capable of killing a large eagle.” Oikawa left.

When he finally made it home, the shallow emptiness washed away. Drip. He exhaled noisily through his nose and removed his shoes quickly. Drip. He stole down the hall quietly to avoid attention. Drip. The door to his room whispered shut as it slithered across the track.

He pulled his futon out messily and curled around one of his pillows. Tonight, he would endure the defeat. Tomorrow, he would look toward the next match. He fingers clenched in tandem with his heart.

The next morning, he slipped into some casual clothes and pushed his glasses onto his nose. He’d mentioned not going to see Karasuno’s match versus Shiratorizawa to the team, but he found himself heading toward the station anyway. Besides, he certainly wouldn’t mind watching either of them crumble from defeat.

He wasn’t quite sure how it happened. He’d planned on slipping through the gymnasium unnoticed and sitting in the very back row in an abandoned section. He wasn’t _sulking_ , he just didn’t want any company. He grimaced at the thought of fangirls “trying to cheer him up.”

Instead, an angry growl was trying to rip straight out of his chest. He’d caught sight of Yachi hurrying down the hall and hadn’t given it a second thought. She was busy. He was being reclusive.

Seeing what he assumed to be players pressure her into a corner stirred an uneasy feeling in his gut. The terrified look on her face mixed oil into his blood. Her scent was the spark that set him off.

It was _wrong._ Harsh. Her fear stifled the lemongrass and honey and the moist soil scent became overpowering. Even through the alpha musk the boys were emitting, Oikawa’s instincts latched onto the weak plea.

He strode forward aggressively, a sneer twisting onto his face. “What do you think you’re doing?” he challenged, stripping their attention from the cowering omega. They turned to look at him, clear recognition mixing with the shock.

“We’re just chatting, man. Nothing to get possessive over.”

“Ah, but can’t you see you aren’t wanted here?” he said coolly, fighting the rumbling in his chest. Yachi’s brown eyes met his briefly and it almost made him lose his already frayed composure. They were wet pools of darkening brown. Her pupils were blown wide and he caught a glimpse of the small shiver of the hand she held against her chest.

The moment he pushed into their semi-circle to place himself in front of Yachi she practically threw herself at his back. He startled a bit before glancing back at the golden crown. Her fingers forced wrinkles into his coat.

“Go,” he growled at the others, unable to control his instincts with her scent swirling around him so closely.

“If that’s how it is,” one of them conceded, strolling away casually. Oikawa tensed angrily, hyper-aware of the omega franticly breathing into his back. The others shuffled away quickly, unwilling to risk pissing him off further.

He hoped the aggressive musk rolling off of him wasn’t going to make her feel worse; he already felt a bit nauseous from the charged encounter. He tried to turn around, but she pressed herself a bit closer in an effort to hide.

A choked out “no” followed by a “please don’t.” Oikawa didn’t have any first-hand experience with panic attacks, but he knew she needed to calm down. The alpha in him was pressing for action. Help. Comfort. He tried to turn again.

“I- I need-,” she gasped tightly, still refusing the motion. “T-talk… please.” Did she realize how much it hurt to not _do_ anything for her? Fuck. A thread of pain sewed into his chest recklessly, pulling tight with each beat of his heart. _Fuck_.

So he talked freely. He told her about helping Takeru whenever he had free time. He revealed that he had a sister and even complained a bit about how overbearing she could be. He mentioned his mother. The small things she did for him that made his day so much smoother. He reminisced about how embarrassing Iwaizumi was when they were younger, how sometimes he thinks they haven’t really changed much at all.

He could feel her relaxing. Resting against his back as opposed to pressing.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, fingers uncurling. Her scent was still too harsh. Unbalanced.

“You have nothing to be sorry about,” he declared confidently. The thread still tugged, but the pain was lessening. “I’m just returning the favor.”

“You don’t owe me anything. I don’t want to be a burden,” she replied, a sliver of determination slipping into her tone like a blade.

“Don’t worry, Flower-chan! Having a cute girl stand so close to me will never be a burden,” he rolled the words around sensually. If they’d been facing, he would’ve added a wink and a smirk. He inhaled the floral tinge to her scent greedily before he realized what he was doing. Fuck. The lemongrass was deepening.

She stepped away from him fully. “Oikawa-san.” He finally turned around. She was looking at her hands. Small fingers, fragile, that were linked together in an attempt at comfort. Her pale golden strands shifted back as her head raised.

She looked worn. Her hair was mussed gently and her skin had a shallow shine. Her cheeks were splotchy with patches of exertion. Earthy eyes met his, caught him like quicksand. Left him to drown.

“Thank you for helping me.” She bowed, fingers still tucked safely. “Every time we meet, I’m always amazed by you.” Her eyes were earnest, reuniting with his hesitantly. A satisfied tingle slipped up his neck.

“Your flattery is sweet-scented, Flower-chan,” he teased. He smiled cheerfully at her quick flush and the following frown. He watched as her fingers crawled into the hem of her jacket.

“Um, it isn’t flattery.” He waited. “I think you’re a really nice guy.” He waited a bit longer. A _nice_ guy? He was attractive, sexy, maybe a bit intimidating and a lot bit intense. Calculating, manipulating, sadistic, even dishonest were all words he’d heard used to describe him. _Nice?_ Maybe she hadn’t recovered yet.

What was he supposed to say to that? Thanks?

He settled with: “Most people don’t say that.”

She sighed and pouted a bit, cheeks puffing unintentionally. Her scent was smoothing out slowly, like honey running to the bottom of the jar. “I know,” she admitted, sounding a bit put out. There was a thorn in his nerve as an annoyed smile flashed across his face. Tobio and his little spiker must have been talking about him.

“But I really believe it!” Even she looked surprised by her vehement statement. Her voice quieted and her feet shuffled as she shifted her weight. The fabric of her pants rustled. “You’re very expressive. It’s comforting.” Her doe eyes found his. Eyes wide: expressive, comforting.

Oikawa felt a rare heat start to infuse his skin. He forced it down willfully. This was nothing to get flustered about. He should be more worried by the fact she basically stated he wore his emotions on his sleeves. Right?

A moment passed. “I’m sorry! That was weird, wasn’t it? I’m so sorry,” she rambled, bowing again. Tension pulled through her jacket as her fingers fought with the fabric. He watched her struggle silently. “I, uh, have to go actually! The match should be starting soon.” She backed away a few steps and started to pivot before freezing. She turned back woodenly. “I… well… I know you couldn’t have been happy yesterday, but you played well. I think, I mean I’m still learning volleyball. It was scary. I mean awe-inspiring! Thank you!” The words blew from her mouth so quickly Oikawa almost didn’t catch all of them.

She hurried away, one step away from running.

He couldn’t stop the satisfaction that spread across his lips.

Oikawa made his way to the stands, following her path at a much more sedated pace. His heart thrummed rhythmically, calm. He found the isolated seat he’d been looking for, turning to watch the match with fingers itching and the eyes of a setter.

He made it through nearly the entire game undisturbed, with his torso bending forward so his arms could wrap around his knees. The suspense and intensity of each rally was making sweat shiver down his spine. It made his blood coil languidly, thick and warm.

Naturally, Iwaizumi found him. Oikawa settled back into the seat casually and tried to play off how intently he’d been focusing on the game. He knew the other boy didn’t believe him for a second, but there was comfort in familiarity.

“No matter who wins, I’ll get to see how crestfallen the losers are!”

“You’re such an asshole.” An expected reaction. Oikawa’s lips twitched.

Despite the harsh words, Oikawa knew that Iwaizumi was just as intrigued by the possible outcome of the match. Karasuno had managed to somehow force Shiratorizawa into a full five set match _and_ cause a deuce in the final set. His words to Ushijima echoed through his head briefly.

Karasuno won.

It was a bit surreal. Aoba Jousai had competed against Shiratorizawa for the last three years and had never been able to watch them lose.

“Damn you Ushiwaka, can’t you put a more frustrated sort of expression on that face of yours?” He tucked his arms behind his head. The ace didn’t even look that different, just tired from the long match.

Iwaizumi didn’t comment, but Oikawa liked to think he wasn’t alone in his disappointment. They watched the teams head out to stretch. It was a good match and much as he didn’t like to admit it, Tobio was growing at a fast rate.

He herded Iwaizumi out of the stands, glad he came, but more than ready to leave. “Alright, alright, we’re going home now! Home time!”

He couldn’t linger here. He had to move on. _They_ had to move on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Japanese used:  
> Tadaima: I'm home  
> Okaerinasai: welcome home  
> Oyasuminasai: good night  
> Mukatsuku: to be irritated/pissed off (by something)


	3. A Little Bit of Honesty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really quickly I wanted to thank everyone who left comments :D I honestly can't convey how happy it makes me to see this being so well received and enjoyed! And to those that left a kudos, thank you for your support!
> 
> On another note: Oikawa's transition from high school to college is probably not going to be entirely accurate for an aspiring athlete. (Like taking entrance exams anyway? Idk) Uh. I just don't really have experience there so I'm winging it haha. I'll try to explain everything in the fic tho, but yeah lol

After they were eliminated from the spring competition, the third years officially quit the club. Exams were in mid-January, so most of them replaced their practice time with cram school. Oikawa still practiced at a local university in preparation for the next season. A university in Tokyo had contacted him about recruitment to their team. It was a fairly competitive school and depending on who they added to their roster, they had a good chance at being in the top five. Oikawa always liked a challenge.

He stretched his arms behind his back, humming softly to himself. Iwaizumi had cram school this afternoon and his usual practice at the university had been cancelled. His sister had been bothering him recently about spending more time with Takeru, apparently, he “needed to take responsibility for turning her son into a volleyball freak.”

It was getting colder as November crept into winter. He buttoned his jacket and pulled on his headphones. There was a cutting breeze that whipped across his cheeks, chilling his nose. He shoved his hands into his pockets and settled in for the walk to the station.

The Lil’ Tykes Volleyball Club was run at a gymnasium that was only a few stations down the line from the one near Aoba Jousai. It was convenient enough that he could usually meet Takeru after school on Mondays so they could walk together. Practicing at the local university had thrown off his schedule during the last couple weeks, so he hadn’t been able to make it before practice started.

He hummed a familiar tune and took in the sight of the large gymnasium, soaking in the weak warmth of the sun and savoring the crisp air. The freshness always gave him an airy energy.

Oikawa pulled out his phone and glanced at the time, frowning as he realized he was even later than usual. He scaled the steps and allowed the guilt to slip away during the ascension; Takeru understood that he was busy.

A couple younger kids pushed outside through the glass doors, followed slowly by a couple of adults. Oikawa could hear the yelling of energetic kids slipping through the gaps. He smiled, mood ballooning like a thick bubble in a lava lamp.

He slipped inside and showed his ID card to the gruff man at the admissions desk. The man shot him an exasperated look and gave him a “good to see you back” before waving him in. “They’re on the same court as usual!” he called.

Oikawa flashed him a quick smile. “Thanks!”

Volleyball always sounded the same, no matter who was playing: yelling, shoes squeaking, loud hits, the ball striking off the court. But the sounds were undeniably less violent here: higher voices, softer blows, more instruction.

He glanced inside and saw the children lined up to practice passing the ball back and forth. Hayashi-sensei, their coach and supervisor, walked between the pairs, fixing their forms and stances. Oikawa started to switch his shoes and Hayashi waved him toward the benches genially.

Oikawa bowed quickly and stepped onto the sidelines, removing his jacket as he brought his bag over to the benches. He froze mid-breath. Lemongrass with an undertone of honey? His eyes scrutinized the kids on the court. It was very uncommon for people to share scents, even siblings. And he _knew_ this one. He turned to the scattered parents sitting on the benches. He took another discrete huff as he approached.

Yachi was here. He couldn’t even begin to guess why, but she was definitely here.

He held onto his coat and secured his bag with his other hand as he strolled in front of the benches. She was near the end. He observed the parents casually, searching for light hair. She was bent over a notebook, short strands of gold curtaining her face. He slipped his bag onto the open space beside her.

She still hadn’t noticed him. Her hand struck across the page quickly, leaving erosive lines behind. He caught a glimpse of pink as her tongue pushed through her lips and she bit it gently. He swallowed heavily. Where did that airy feeling from earlier go? His blood pulsed heavy and warm.

The honey tone was strong, slipping across his tongue sensually. Satisfied. The lemongrass slid through the air lightly. Excited. The earthy scent was faint, but there. Relaxed. He couldn’t help himself. He shuffled forward and peered over the tilted page. Ah. Volleyball.

He leaned a bit closer to get a better look and her eyes raised at the movement, head following the smooth path her orbs cut. He met her look without hesitation, warmth and pleasant aches drifting through his muscles at the familiar honest brown. He smiled widely.

“Did you miss me, Flower-chan?”

A scarlet tint rose to her cheeks as she jumped and stood, maneuvering around the setter to avoid contact. She clutched her notebook to her chest tightly, arms crossed and pale. Her scent followed the movement, streaking through his air. Oikawa hummed quietly, waiting a moment before stepping away. He was so fucked. What was he doing?

“Ah, Oikawa-san! I didn’t realize you would be here!” she exclaimed, voice low and a bit panicky as she checked her surroundings. The sweet pollen air dispelled any worry he had of scaring her. He despised the attitude of overbearing guys, sneering mentally at the memory of the final day of the representative playoffs.

“I was surprised, too,” Oikawa admitted, turning in to her slightly. She watched him fold his coat into a neat square and store it in his bag. He didn’t realize how much he’d missed the ease that seemed to come with her presence. “I come to help the kids learn, but I haven’t been around as much lately,” he explained, zipping his bag shut.

She smiled and he felt the simmer of her rays across his skin. He tilted his head to eye her contemplatively. She was nice. He liked her.

“I-,” she began.

“Tooru!” Takeru called, running over to them with a surprised grin. He gave an apologetic look and waved cheerily to the boy. He stumbled to a halt in front of them, nearly running straight into Yachi. Oikawa resisted the urge to frown. “I thought you weren’t going to show up today!” The boy pressed right up against Yachi’s side and she ran her fingers over his short hair absentmindedly.

Oikawa shoved the irrational surge of jealousy down. It was natural for kids to seek omegas for comfort. “I was held up at school a _little_ bit longer than expected,” he forced out cheerily. He poked Takeru’s forehead gently. The boy still complained and only quieted after Yachi rubbed it with careful fingers.

Oikawa forced himself not to pout.

“Little brother?” Yachi mouthed at him.

Oikawa rolled his eyes teasingly, but gave her an indulging smile. “Nephew.”

“Ah,” she breathed softly, the sound trickling soothingly. Her eyes creased, amused.

Takeru leaned his head on her hip and looked up at his uncle questioningly. “You know Nee-chan?” he asked loudly, maybe a bit defensively. Oikawa chuckled and caught the blonde’s eyes again. He hummed softly and tilted his head. She really was nice. Cute, of course, but _warm_. Somehow even though their meetings seemed to be emotionally charged and inconvenient, he always felt _good_ after.

“I really don’t know her, but I’d like to,” he flirted. He winked at her to the outrage of his nephew. He observed her reaction carefully, noting that despite the embarrassed expression that immediately appeared, her body language hadn’t indicated any aversion to the suggestion. It was definitely a start.

Takeru sent a weak growl at Oikawa and he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “That’s so mean, Takeru!” he whined, pretending to hide his tears. He really hadn’t thought a girl was going to be what drove the wedge between them.

He was ignored.

“Nee-chan, you’ll watch me spike, right?” the boy asked, pulling on her hand to ensure her attention. Yachi tilted her head sweetly and nodded, scent deepening.

“Of course.” She sent him off with a small wave and Oikawa swore his nephew practically skipped to his peers.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment. He loathed having to leave the cocoon her scent made around her, but he hadn’t come here to talk to girls.

“I should go help,” he sighed, eyeing her. Her gaze strayed from his nephew and she gave him a fond look. He started.

“Have fun,” she wished, reaching forward and squeezing his hand lightly. The soft skin of her fingers danced across his palm, leaving tingles in its wake. They didn’t feel fragile now; the pressure transmitted fervor and endurance into his resolve. He didn’t even feel insulted that she was treating him like a pup.

She yanked her hand back, looking a bit horrified. Oikawa couldn’t help himself. He laughed freely and pulled her hand back to his. “Oh, I will,” he promised, pressing their palms together briefly before walking away. Her nectarous response followed him insistently.

Hayashi sent him a knowing grin. “Sweet on that omega, are you?”

Oikawa didn’t justify it with a direct answer. “She’s a sweet girl,” he countered casually. The large man laughed heartily and turned back to the struggling children. When Oikawa glanced back at her, she gripped her notebook roughly and began drawing again. He watched her for a moment, spirits lifting his lips.

“Oikawa! Come help Izumo with his serve!”

“Hai, hai!” the setter called back, cheerfully.

Thirty minutes later, Hayashi called for the kids to take a water break. They raced each other to the bleachers competitively. A few were scolded by their parents, but many of them gathered around Yachi, clambering for her attention. Oikawa felt that relaxation from before flutter across his tired neurons.

“It sure is nice having an omega in the gym,” Hayashi commented, taking a swig from his own water bottle. Oikawa stretched his arms and shoulders, thoughtfully considering the comment. The veteran player continued, “the kids are so much more manageable. Focused and obedient, but putting effort in too.”

Oikawa watched as Yachi showed the inquisitive children some of her sketches. The parents all had indulgent smiles as the small blonde entertained them.

“I think that’s just the effect she has,” he finally conceded. He tilted his head back and arched his back slightly. “There’s this other omega I know that’s the complete opposite. He would probably have the kids jumping straight over the net.” The image was completely ridiculous, but somehow seemed to fit Karasuno’s orange ball of energy perfectly.

“That’s absurd,” Hayashi echoed his thoughts.

“I know,” Oikawa replied, a bit put out. The first-year middle blocker had so much athletic potential. _Of course_ Tobio would be given the perfect opportunity to show off using the shrimp. The world just wouldn’t be _fair_ otherwise.

Loud protests resounded from the bench and Oikawa refocused on Yachi. She was surrounded by the little tykes and was patting each on the head individually. The buzz of their voices only grew as she extricated herself from the mass and headed toward center court.

“Hayashi-sensei, thank you very much for allowing me to talk with your students. It’s been very helpful!” She bowed deeply and straightened with a pleased flush on her cheeks. The older man rubbed the back of his neck.

“Maa, Yachi-chan, it was no bother. You’re welcome to come back any time.” He shot a look at Oikawa.

“I’ll let you know!” she assured him, fingers clasped loosely. After one last glance to check on the children, she turned back to them. “I’m sorry for leaving early. Please excuse my rudeness.” She bowed again.

Hayashi laughed and waved her off. She strode to the entrance quickly and the instructor quirked an eyebrow. Oikawa tried to ignore the knowing look he was receiving while simultaneously keeping his gaze from stalking her.

“Oikawa. You aren’t fooling anyone. Go talk to her before she leaves.” His protest froze when he noticed the serious look on the man’s face. He felt like he was walking on gravel: slow and a bit unsteady.

He turned and jogged after her.

“Alright, put those waters away! It’s time for serving drills!”

He caught her in the hallway. “Wait!” She tripped and fumbled with her bag before turning to face him. He paused. What was he supposed to say now? Good luck at nationals? She may as well just leave.

“Oikawa-san?” she stepped back toward him. Her eyes traveled along his figure unobtrusively. A small breeze drifted through the corridor, raising bumps along his bare arms. He blew out a gusty breath.

“Look. I’m just going to be honest here.” He looked heavenward and tensed in preparation for a censure that didn’t come.

_Oikawa? An honest guy? That’s rare._

Yachi’s fingers tangled in the straps of her bag playfully. Her shoulders were shifted in his direction, head tilted in patient concentration.

“Okay,” she replied softly. Confused, but accepting his prolonged silence. Her unassuming acquiesce strengthened his resolve.

“I was serious about earlier, when I said I wanted to get to know you.” His fingers burrowed into the long hair at the back of his head, massaging his skull. “I know we haven’t talked much and when we have it’s been… complicated.” That was putting it mildly. Class sensitivity, defeat, aggression.

She wasn’t reacting, but she wasn’t leaving either. Even breaths continued to slip between her slightly parted lips.

“But I think you’re interesting and you make the atmosphere so _light,_ ” he explained. He stepped closer to her. “I like it a lot.” He smiled encouragingly and watched for her response.

She frowned. “I do?”

He frowned. “Make gravity seem nonexistent sometimes? Yes. You really do.” He paused. “I’d really like to try being friends.”

Her cheeks reddened first, gradually. Then her lips trembled and bowed, pulled taught into a brightening smile. Her earthy, creased eyes met his. Oikawa’s heart stuttered and stumbled mid-run. Oh.

She tucked a strand of silky honey hair behind her ear. Honest brown dropped briefly before reuniting with his own inquisitive gaze. “I think I’d like to try,” she agreed in a mumbled declaration. An ecstatic grin stretched across his lips as satisfaction flushed through his limbs. He couldn’t help the subtle surge of possessiveness that followed.

He spread his arms wide, triumph saturating his disposition. “In that case, we should start our new friendship with a hug,” he declared.

“Why?” Her adorably confused expressions were starting to grow on him.

“You don’t want to?” he pouted, faking offense. Yachi waved her hands frantically and quickly denied it.

Oikawa beckoned her closer, and when she came within reach tentatively, he was like the cat that caught the canary. His long fingers pulled her in the rest of the way and her caged her against him firmly.

Calming honey and lemongrass air twisted in his lungs and he let his cheek rest on the top of her head. Her arms rose around him and linked behind his back, her bag bumping against him gently. Oikawa let out a satisfied rumble.

He closed his eyes and relaxed into her embrace, nuzzling her crown instinctively. She drew soft lines into his lower back, leaving tingling streaks of sensitive skin. He felt her exhale heavily and melt further into him with a short purr. The small vibrations rushed serenity through his mind. He couldn’t help the loud throaty purr that rose in response. He attempted to pull her closer, the desire to connect and care pelting through him.

“Oikawa-san.”

“Hmmm?” he hummed distractedly.

“Oikawa-san, you need to focus. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize how that would affect you.” He blinked languidly.

“You should at least call me Oikawa-kun. Or Tooru-kun,” he breathed, forcing his head up despite the limp disconnect he felt from the neck down. “Flower-chan, I think you drugged me.” He stumbled a bit as she pulled away from him. His fingers twitched.

“Are you going to keep calling me Flower-chan?” she questioned. A pleased smile surfaced on his face at the lack of irritation in her tone.

“I could call you Hitoka-chan,” he teased.

“Ah, I think Flower-chan is fine!” her voice rose with the blood in her cheeks. “Um. Oikawa-kun,” she added. He rolled his shoulders and flexed his fingers, stretching the tendons. The oddly numb feeling was fading.

“One day, Flower-chan,” he acquiesced. “But we’ll go at your pace,” he assured her, while mentally noting to push her gently on the matter. What? Oikawa was a bit of an underhanded guy, he wasn’t going to deny it.

“But, we do have to exchange mail addresses,” he insisted, pulling out his phone. She freed hers from her bag and they added each other as contacts. She smiled happily, tapping something out on her phone before dropping it back into her bag.

"You didn’t add anything mean to my contact page, did you?” he asked her, leaning toward her. She startled.

“No, of course not! I wouldn’t do that!” Her eyes were wide, innocent. They begged for peace and understanding. He swallowed. Fuck. He definitely had a weakness.

“I’ll believe you this time,” he allowed, tapping her crown with his cell phone before slipping it back into his pocket. He hummed gently, tracing the delicate flush on her cheeks with thoughtful eyes. “I should go back and help the kids, but I’ll text you later.”

She looked back toward the door leading onto the court was situated, eyes sparking with surprise. “Oh, yeah. You should. I totally forgot.” She laughed and rubbed a hand on her forehead. “I should head home too, I have a few things I need to work on.”

Oikawa pivoted cheerfully, long legs carrying back toward the court. He swiveled his head back and caught her eye. “You better not forget to reply, Flower-chan.”

Her body flowed with cheerfulness as her lips bowed. She rocked back on her heels, clasping her bag loosely. “I won’t!” she assured him, eyelids pressing shut with a blanket-warm grin on her face. Acceptance and affection nearly radiated from her, tangling in Oikawa’s insecurities.

Her happiness burnt into his retinas, causing after-images even after he forced his head straight. She was a nice girl. She was cute too, but mostly she was just a nice, unexpectedly fascinating _,_ girl.

Later that night, he sent her a quick message before going to bed, airy hope swirling breezily in his chest.

**22:41 Oikawa Tooru** : ☆〜（ゝ。∂）

**22:41 Oikawa Tooru** : sleep well ✿-chan!

The insistent beat in his chest kept him awake.

He peaked into the darkness, fumbling with his phone. He’d check once, then leave it until morning. A white light illuminated the small space. Sparks licked along his skin even in the dry cold breath of November.

**22:53 Yachi Hitoka** : (^_−)−☆ I will!

**22:54 Yachi Hitoka** : stay warm!

Oikawa turned over with a pleased rumble and a small twist of his lips. He wrapped himself into a blanketed cocoon, drifting to sleep minutes later. The insistent beat morphed into a resonating purr.

.~|~.

**6:30 Oikawa Tooru:** morning

**6:35 Yachi Hitoka:** too early (o_ _)o

**6:43 Oikawa Tooru** : wake up!! (~‾⌣‾)~

Oikawa folded his futon and changed into some loose exercise clothes. Since he didn’t have morning practice, he’d been running instead. He breathed out a small cloud of fog into the morning air and tucked a scarf around his face before setting off.

While it was extremely cold, it hadn’t started snowing yet so the sidewalks were still clear. Even he wasn’t motivated enough to brave running on icy concrete. Or stupid enough for that matter.

For now, a heavy frost lingered on the remaining leaves and foliage. Most of it would be gone by mid-afternoon. He kept a bruising pace, circling back toward his house during the latter thirty minutes. After a quick shower and drying his hair, he pulled on his school uniform, sending Iwaizumi a text to let him know he’s on his way over.

“Why are you so cheerful this morning?” the dark-haired boy griped, emerging from his home. Oikawa puffed softly, hiding his nose in his scarf.

“Guess!” he teased, keeping his hands firmly buried in his coat pockets. They fell into step as they walked for the station.

“Did you get a new girlfriend? You do remember how that turned out last time, right?” Iwaizumi rolled his eyes at the setter.

“ _No_. And _yes_ , Iwa-chan. You don’t have to be sour and rub it in.” Oikawa glared at him over the rim of his scarf. Iwaizumi was unphased, untucked shirt peeking out from under his coat and a completely aloof demeanor nipping at Oikawa’s cool.

“Then what? There was another ‘possible alien sighting?’” he guessed again.

“No, I just made a new friend,” Oikawa grumbled, losing his excitement over the subject. It seemed a bit ridiculous anyway. Iwaizumi probably wouldn’t care.

The former-ace gave a long-suffering sigh. “Oikawa, just spit it out, I can tell you’re dying to tell me.”

“I don’t want to anymore.” Oikawa pouted.

“If you don’t tell me right now, I’m going to kick you. Repeatedly,” Iwaizumi threatened. Horrified eyes shot to the shorter boy.

“So violent!” Iwaizumi’s leg rose and Oikawa danced away, hands flying out of his pockets to wave him away. “Okay, fine. _Fine_.” The cold bit at his fingers, chasing them back to the warmth.

“You remember Karasuno’s new manager?” he started.

“The blond one?”

“Yeah, well-.”

“The one that you pushed yourself on at the practice match?”

A flush entirely unrelated to the cold crept up Oikawa’s cheeks. “ _Yes._ Stop interrupting me, Iwa-chan! Don’t force me to tell then refuse to let me speak!”

“I was just clarifying,” he waved airily, seemingly unaffected by the cold. “Go on with your story.”

Oikawa glowered. “ _Anyway_ , so we’ve run into each other a couple times since the practice match and we talked some. And yesterday, I don’t know why, but she was at Takeru’s volleyball club. So, we talked.” He checked to make sure Iwaizumi was still listening. “Anyway, I asked if she wanted to be friends and we exchanged numbers.”

“Wow, you really made it sound more dramatic,” he intoned.

“But it _is_ a big deal, Iwa-chan. She’s… she’s really nice, okay?” he tried to explain, unsure how to express the complex matrix of emotions he felt in her presence. He huffed out a frustrated breath. Dark eyes scrutinized him. A car hummed by, hugging the road.

“You’re serious about this,” Iwaizumi observed. Oikawa looked toward the sparse clouds hanging in the silent sky.

“Yeah, I am,” he admitted. Despite his flirty personality, Oikawa didn’t find entertainment in leading girls on. They tended to be viscous when slighted; he wasn’t a masochist, even if he did provoke Iwaizumi’s violent tendencies sometimes.

“Kageyama is going to be pissed.”

“It’s a great side benefit,” Oikawa smirked. Iwaizumi rolled his eyes.

They stopped at a convenience store by the station so Oikawa could buy some milk bread for breakfast. When they settled onto the rail car, the setter pulled out his phone.

**7:56 Oikawa Tooru:** what were you doing at the Lil Tyke’s VBC o_o forgot to ask

He couldn’t help the tingling amusement from spreading to his lips at the thought of a tired Yachi. She had texted him back pretty late, so she may not have slept much. He frowned, a surge of irrational worry streaking quickly at the idea.

**8:03 Yachi Hitoka:** making a poster for Karasuno VBC

**8:05 Oikawa Tooru:** why? of what?

**8:06 Oikawa Tooru:** I WANNA SEE :O

**8:07 Yachi Hitoka:** It’s to help raise funds for nationals. It’s of Hinata. And it isn’t printed yet! (｡•́︿•̀｡)

**8:10 Oikawa Tooru:** when will it be? you better show me ( Ĭ ^ Ĭ )

“Stop pouting Trashy-kawa,” Iwaizumi shot as they left the station. “And stop hovering over your phone.”

“Iwa-chan, why can’t you just accept me!” he whined, reaching for the shorter boy. “Aren’t best friends supposed to be _supportive_?” Oikawa was forced to dodge a quickly executed side-kick. Iwaizumi didn’t even remove his hands from his pockets.

“No.”

**8:26 Yachi Hitoka:** tomorrow maybe? I finished it last night

**8:28 Oikawa Tooru:** ;D

.~|~.

School was monotonous. Volleyball was exhausting. Between studying for exams and studying the players on the court, Oikawa was _drained_. He sighed and pulled his bag onto his shoulder.

“Good work today!” one of the college students called, rolling the ball cart into the storage room.

“You, too!” Oikawa replied with much more cheer than he was currently feeling. There was a breeze traveling in with dusk. His eyes fell in a lazy blink. What he wouldn’t give to be at home cuddled up in front of his computer. He buttoned his coat and trudged toward the station.

Flushed clouds crawled across the fading light. Their expressions darkened gradually, threatening the fall of weightless tears. Wind sliced tentatively as though testing the edge of a blade. Growing more confident, it whistled through the buildings hauntingly, following Oikawa down the streets.

Warmth. His breath curled lazily through the chill like a cat’s tongue.

.~|~.

**21:09 Yachi Hitoka:** printing is confirmed! :)

**21:31 Oikawa Tooru:** I would cheer, but I can’t move (;-_-)ノ

**21:35 Yachi Hitoka:** are you okay?

**21:37 Oikawa Tooru:** tired and slowly withering in this cold. my heart can’t take it

**21:38 Yachi Hitoka:** you should drink something warm (*´◡｀*)

**21:38 Yachi Hitoka:** do you have hot chocolate?

**21:40 Oikawa Tooru:** no. only tea (⌣_⌣”)

**21:42 Yachi Hitoka:** well, tea is good too

**21:43 Oikawa Tooru:** hot chocolate sounds good tho. you like it?

**21:44 Yachi Hitoka:** It’s my favorite drink during winter (｡♥‿♥｡)

**21:45 Yachi Hitoka:** do you have one?

**21:45 Yachi Hitoka:** a favorite winter drink

**21:46 Oikawa Tooru:** anything sweet and warm (^‿↼)

Oikawa waited ten minutes, occasionally glancing up from his homework. Fifteen. Twenty. His fingers hovered over his phone as he reread their conversation. Maybe he should apologize? He _did_ tease her intentionally, but he didn’t want her to stop texting him.

He should wait a little bit. Just until tomorrow. He rested his chin on his knee solemnly and pulled a blanket snugly around his shoulders. A little piece of him tugged like a snagged thread.

.~|~.

**6:12 Yachi Hitoka: ‘** jpg. Tap to Download’

**6:14 Yachi Hitoka:** sorry I stopped texting you yesterday D: I got distracted and totally forgot. Hope you slept well!

Oikawa sprawled toward his desk, blindly searching for his glasses, phone hanging listlessly in one hand. He let out a quite groan as his sore muscles stretched in silent labor. He pushed the frames onto his face and carted a tired hand through his messy hair.

7:10 a.m.

He clambered back to his futon and soaked into the warm cocoon immediately. He reread the notification texts from Yachi and clumsily unlocked his phone with a fumbling pass of his thumb.

He scanned the apology quickly, brushing it under another layer of paint. He really hadn’t slept well. Anxiousness had plagued the night and worry had sown puzzles into his mind. His head was so filled with smog that he hadn’t even heard his alarm go off.

The screen was too bright. He grumbled and fought with his phone for a moment, forcing the backlight to something reasonable for morning hours. Finally, he addressed the file. His fingers skimmed over the screen, almost tentative to reveal the contents.

It was Hinata. There was no question of that as his pupils constricted. They dilated slowly, black pools creeping up the shoreline as he took in the rest of the image. It was a ceiling-angled shot, with the small middle-blocker jumping for a spike. Past the net, Oikawa recognized the high rafters and lights indicative of a large gymnasium. It was eye-catching; all of the colors were vibrant and seductive. Black feathers swirled across the poster strategically drawing the eye to a phrase or a frozen movement. But even as he read the words on the poster, his gaze was ultimately drawn back to the figure suspended in the air.

If he was going to be honest: it was a bit frustrating.

He huffed a bit and his eyes narrowed. He may have accepted his defeat, but it hadn’t made Karasuno grow any more favorable in his opinion. His craving for Nationals hadn’t abated.

“Stupid crows,” he mumbled, swiping off the picture.

**7:23 Oikawa Tooru:** I don’t like it ✿-chan

**7:23 Oikawa Tooru:** it’s so amazing that it’s making me jealous

Stupid Tobio. Stupid Chibi-chan. He would definitely beat them the next time they played.

**7:26 Yachi Hitoka:** thank you! (◍•ᴗ•◍)

**7:28 Yachi Hitoka:** and don’t be jealous, silly

He reread the text incredulously, shoving his futon into the closet. Was she teasing him? A fluttery warmth glided through his chest, soaring past the frustration easily.

**7:29 Oikawa Tooru:** I’m not silly! D:

**7:40 Yachi Hitoka:** *:ﾟ*｡⋆ฺ(*´◡`)


	4. Walking Side-by-Side

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> D: well here ya go. Sort of throwing this chapter up here in a hurry. x_x finals week is coming, so I can't promise an update next week, but we'll see MEH  
> This got super angsty. I'm so sorry. But Oikawa is human too. >_<  
> Hope you enjoy it! :) And thank you for the comments! (I see you people that keep coming back heh) Everyone has been so amazing and encouraging with their comments :D but I don't mind criticism either (let me know if there is something you don't enjoy/enjoy less so I can make it even better! its a win-win for us both)
> 
> Ganbare: do your best/persevere

The rest of November inched by gradually, each day arching and stretching with the passage of time. It was dull; every day reflected the next, like water dripping into a pond that creates identical, expanding, rippled waves. He felt like a lone water droplet. It didn’t matter how much effort he put in, everything seemed to equalize discouragingly.

The trend continued into early December.

Run, school, practice, homework, sleep. His runs became infrequent as snow began to hug the ground and stopped completely when the white sludge married the earth for the overbearing winter. Every night now, puffy flakes flickered in the dimmed light of street life.

Sometimes he wondered what he was doing.

He studied so he could attend a respected university. He practiced so he could improve at volleyball. He ate and he slept. But he wasn’t satisfied. That feeling of completeness that languidly assured his mind of being on the right path seemed to have hidden deep within the waters of the frozen lakes.

Problems and insecurities seemed to appear like the snow, but they didn’t melt when the sun came out.

He was class sensitive.

It was an aspect of his life he had really failed to address. _Avoided_ addressing. There hadn’t been another heat incident to stroke the fever and he didn’t frequently engage in posturing, brushed past it lightly if he could. But he _was_ class sensitive, and it didn’t matter how much he downplayed the effect, that wouldn’t change.

Volleyball from this point on would only grow more intense. Only the serious would continue to play in college and most of them were undoubtedly alphas. He needed to consider how he would handle the aggression and potent musk that was a result of competition. He needed to. But it was as if something just kept falling to the ground, and no matter how many times he tried to pick it up, he couldn’t seem to find it.

Class sensitivity was a deterioration of his sight.

Class sensitivity was an excuse.

It was an excuse that conveniently hoarded all of Oikawa’s insecurities like sour candy.

Was it worth it? Would he ever _win_?

The unrelenting thoughts followed him through the next few weeks. Texting Yachi was a reprieve, but it wasn’t an antidote by any means. Spikes of pleasure were nothing compared to the miles of unattended farmland where weeds grew unchecked. Despite this, he continually sought her out, texting her about random occurrences every few days and replying zealously. So, when his sister called to demand he bring “that omega Takeru keeps rambling about – Hitoka onee-san?” to his nephew’s tournament it was a task he undertook happily.

He shamelessly used her weakness for kids to his advantage, insisting that “they could use the extra support,” but he liked to think she would have agreed anyway.

A week of anxious excitement abrasively rubbed on his fortitude as the weekend approached sluggishly. It wasn’t the first time he wished he could change the passage of time.

By the time Saturday unfurled, the tension had begun to wear at his defenses and the doubts started to creep back in. There seemed to be more shadow than light that morning. When they met at the station, his greeting was lackluster and unconstructive. Awkward tension drifted in the air between them. He felt bad. Tired. Out of control.

Finally, she spoke.

“Why did you start playing volleyball?” Her fingers were tangled again and her nose was tipped pink. But her eyes were a roasted, mellow brown in the afternoon rays.

He knew it was completely unintentional, the way she tentatively broached the subject he had been slowly – reluctantly – traversing. The topic had thorns on its stem and prickly leaves. Perhaps it was the warm look in her eye that made him reach for it anyway.

Colored petals emerged with each nourishing thought spared to the inquiry.

“It was fun,” he sighed, wind-swept hair waving listlessly in the cool gusts. The sidewalk was a stained shadow from the melted snow. Yachi walked next to him silently, matching his shortened gait. His chest loosened at the sight of their legs moving in a connected rhythm.

“When I was younger, my father used to toss for us, me and my sister.” He smiled fondly and soaked in the insignificant heat of the sun. “On the weekends when we didn’t have class, he would take us to the park and we would make it a game to see how many passes we could make before someone dropped the ball.”

“It sounds fun,” Yachi observed, cheeks tinted and lips lifting.

“It really was. I carried a volleyball around everywhere,” he admitted, chuckle vibrating quietly in his throat. “But Kaeyu was usually the one that dropped it.”

“Your sister?”

He met her eyes and hummed his affirmation. Relaxation spread through his shoulders from the nostalgic memories.

“Even though Iwa-chan made fun of me I eventually convinced him to play too.” He paused and let the city noise come rushing through their conversation. Their jackets rustled with each step and their shoes kissed the concrete softly. “Honestly, I didn’t start wanting to be a setter, I sort of fell into the role.”

“I can’t imagine you as anything else,” Yachi replied. Her voice was full of amusement with a scratch of awe. “Whenever you’re setting everything seems so smooth and relaxed, but really _fast_.” She waved her hands in front of her whimsically.

Her next step brought her close enough that their arms brushed in passing. The proximity brought chilled lemongrass and honey scented air into his lungs. Tingles ricocheted through his cold skin like a stone tripping downhill. His words fell unconstrained.

 “It grew on me quickly,” he smirked, remembering the first time he’d been able to toss the ball exactly where he wanted to. The mastery over his body movement had been bliss, a stone that continued skipping, dancing across the water’s edge.

His mouth ran from his mind. He couldn’t stop gravity.

“And I wanted to be better, to go to nationals. To be good enough to go,” he sighed, baring the wound to the younger girl.

She was quiet.

He continued, throat constricting slightly. “I wanted to go with my team, but it was a selfish desire too. I’ve always been competitive and I wanted to be the best. Even if I had to crush others to get there.” Especially if he got to crush others. The words halted as though lodged in his throat.

A dainty hand on his sleeve stopped his forward momentum and maneuvered him to face her with a firm tug. Yachi’s other hand rose to brush across his cheek, thumb drafting thick lines.

Oikawa was frozen, unsure how to react to the unusual display. Usually he had to push for contact, but… gentle fingers sifting through his hair, warmth and static touches. He knew what this was.

His eyes softened. “You don’t have to comfort me, Flower-chan. I’m fine.”

“Oikawa-kun,” she stated solidly. She caught his eyes and held them gently, fingers stroking and gaze searching. A cold heat burned his chest. So much effort put in, but nothing coming out. A broken machine.

After a minute of no response, she pulled away and averted her eyes to the darkly smudged sidewalk. “I noticed earlier that you were more subdued, but… this doesn’t feel like you.” She seemed to sway slightly: feet grounded, but body tempted to move. “Not… that I really _know_ you, but…”

The words echoed through his mindscape. Prodding for a reaction. She was right, of course. The inner turmoil never really left, floating in the sea in a shipwreck of unsalvageable debris. He could brush it away, but it always drifted back with the current, deathly persistent.

What was he doing? For what purpose? The questions festered like a disease.

“I want to help you,” she declared feebly. “I can tell that you’re bothered.” And that bothers me too went unsaid, but he understood.

He reached for her and drew her in slowly, unsure of how the action would be received. “Flower-chan, you do help me. I’m just a little lost, but I’ll find my way. Don’t worry about me,” he insisted, tucking her close as no protest arose. There was no quick fix for this one. He knew. But he also didn’t have to let it taint every moment.

She pressed her face into his coat and huffed lightly. His alpha jolted with pride and satisfaction when he realized what she was up to. He’d always thought it would feel weird having someone relax from your scent– he’d considered it shamefully all throughout October – but it was… pleasant. It felt _right_.

With one arm securely hooked around her back, he used his free hand to fiddle with her short strands. Her hair-tie with the small star charms drew his fingers and he tugged the stars playfully. She exhaled airy, indistinguishable words into his chest. He sampled the air, rolling her scent across his tongue like candy. It was sweetening. He peeked at her hidden visage.

“Takeru is going to throw a fit if we don’t show up before the game. I promised him you’d be there.”

She slunk away from his warmth with her head bowed, arms tangling around her bag. “Sorry for getting all emotional,” she mumbled, a heavy scarlet gracing the tips of her ears. His heart jerked and he snuck a finger under her chin, leaning in close.

“Chin-up, buttercup. No shame when you’re with friends.”

Her lips trembled. He took it as a victory.

“Besides,” he winked, resolutely burying his doubts. “I have much more to be embarrassed about than you do. You know, Iwa-chan _still_ teases me about the practice match!” He groaned dramatically, and tugged Yachi’s hand lightheartedly, grip soft. She fell into step with him with a slip of a smile.

“Why?” she asked with a frown.

Oikawa felt his cheeks begin to flare. Was she serious? Her expression seemed genuine.

“It wasn’t like you were doing it deliberately.” She paused and visible paled. “Were you?”

He gaped at her and snatched his hand back. “That’s cruel, Flower-chan!” he whined, gaze whipping to the storefronts across the street. “Of course, I wouldn’t take advantage of you like that!” His bare palm protested against the chill, forcing him to shove it into his now cold pocket.

Yachi giggled and forced a grin out of him. He was definitely losing the battle for composure. Forget strategy or tactics, she was an extremely dangerous psychological and biochemical weapon that seemed to counter Oikawa’s usual façade without flaw.

He couldn’t dodge the happiness that she exuded and nurtured.

A few blocks later the gymnasium came into view and Yachi’s excitement bit at her ankles. Oikawa lengthened his stride easily and stretched his legs. They ascended the steps quickly and he could nearly feel her mounting enthusiasm.

There was a table just inside selling admission to the event.

“Two tickets, please,” he requested with a winning smile. As he placed the money into the tray, Yachi sidled up and her bright orbs questioned him. Before she could say anything, he gathered his change, the schedule, and their tickets and herded her toward the courts. “This is my treat,” he insisted cheerfully.

“Oikawa-kun, I can pay,” she fought, blindly searching her bag for her wallet. He settled his hands on her shoulders and forced her into a faster pace. She gave up with the awkward struggle and he just _knew_ she must have been frowning.

“Don’t make me feel bad, Flower-chan. What kind of gentleman would I be if I made a lady pay?” He squeezed her tense muscles rousingly then stepped up next to her, allowing one arm to drape across her shoulders. “Your company is payment enough,” he flirted with a wink.

“O-okay?” she conceded, the word stumbling out. Was he pressuring her too much? Calculating eyes caught her stressed fingers and clumsy gait. But her nectarous scent was soaking into his thoughts and it was _addictive_. Mischief tugged Oikawa into action.

He bent and let his lips hover near her ear. “Are you excited?”

She jerked hard enough that his arm fell from its perch. Her face was flaming. “I-um. Exc-.” She swallowed. “Am. I am excited… to watch Takeru play.” she finally managed to enunciate. She gave him a worried, panicked look and he felt guilt start to crawl into his stomach. He didn’t want to drive her away.

He stepped out of her space and returned his hands to his pockets. “Me too, his serve has been improving a lot.” Her shoulders relaxed incrementally, though her knuckles were still taught. He had to wrestle with the urge to draw her into another hug. Confusion trickled in slowly. Why was he being so handsy?

His alpha was clearly frustrated, anxiously driving him to touch her. Comfort her. He found himself fighting the instinct constantly. It was clear she wasn’t comfortable with that kind of contact. As if disagreeing, the memory of her willing fingers spanning his cheek washed across his nerves.

That action had changed their dynamic. Perhaps irreversibly. He restrained an annoyed groan. Now that she had initiated contact on her own, the alpha in him had no doubts about returning the gesture. She was willing. She sought him out. It was only right to show her he felt the same, to reinforce their budding relationship.

But it wasn’t right. This was not the past where courting was heavily led by class interactions and dynamics. Restlessness at his inaction seemed to bubble into his muscles, but he ignored the bursts as they popped.

She wasn’t just an omega. She was Yachi Hitoka. And if Yachi wasn’t ready, he wasn’t going to push.

“Oikawa-kun?” Her fingers were carefully tangled in his sleeve. They had made it to the main court where the small tournament was being held. He drudged up a jubilant mask despite the cramping in his resolve.

He squinted at the scoreboard. “It looks like Kurihara Junior Volleyball Club is playing against Nami Kouen.” He opened the flyer that had come with the tickets. “Takeru should be playing in the next match against… Kazetori?”

His arm gravitated toward her with the intent to direct before he’d even registered it. He averted the movement into a gesture. “Last year the teams warmed up over here.” Keeping his hands to himself was going to be a chore. He grimaced internally.

Yachi followed him to one of the smaller practice courts, gravitating close as they passed others in the hall. Oikawa’s larger frame hid the younger girl as he checked the occupants of the room.

“Tooru!”

He heard the blonde giggle quietly. Takeru’s feet pounded the gym floor as he shot toward them. Oikawa loosed a small wave and a welcoming smile.

“You’ve started warming up?”

“We’re about to. Where’s Nee-chan? You said she’d be here,” he prodded. Oikawa had the selfish urge to push Yachi behind his back and keep her hidden. She seemed to have a different idea.

“Hi, Takeru-kun,” she greeted, stepping around Oikawa’s lurking height. She leaned down so they were at eye level and the younger boy seemed subdued. His feet fidgeted and his cheeks puffed.

“Hi.” He shuffled forward and his arms tentatively unfurled for a hug. Yachi guided him in and stroked his crown. She glanced back at Oikawa, eyes full of amusement. He pouted dramatically and crossed his arms.

Unphased, she returned her attention to the young player and ruffled his hair gently. “Good luck today and do your best, okay? We’ll be cheering for you!”

A petty facet of his personality wailed at the lack of attention he was receiving and was quick to blame his nephew. Oikawa shuffled closer to the omega with a twinge of jealousy. He buried the unwanted emotion promptly.

Takeru blushed, but nodded enthusiastically, coming to life like a flame. “We’ll win for sure!” He ran back toward the coach after glaring at the tall setter. Oikawa scowled internally. Since when did he become the bad guy?

He forced a carefree grin at the raised eyebrows Hayashi sent him as shock blew in like a cold front. What the fuck. The man _knew_ somehow.

Oikawa sent him a forcefully relaxed wave. Hayashi smirked. Oikawa’s eye twitched. Hayashi’s eyes assessed him quickly: posture, positioning, the hand hovering over Yachi’s shoulder. Oikawa forced it down hastily.

“Ah, let’s go find some good seats, Flower-chan,” he suggested, gracing the older man with an aggressive frown that he hoped communicated, “I don’t appreciate your judgement. At all.”

He noticed Yachi eyeing his hand as he led them down the hall. Her fingers twitched. Was she also affected by the instinct to touch? His eyes gleamed. It would be strange if her instincts _didn’t_ recognize the situation.

“So, Flower-chan, why did you join the volleyball club?” he began, weaving through clusters of parents and small players.

A fresh blush rose on her cheekbones. “Actually, Shimizu-senpai, our third-year manager, recruited me. I hadn’t joined a club yet so…” She rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly. “I wasn’t going to join initially, but Hinata… ah, convinced me… or something along those lines.”

He hummed and eyed her. “You don’t like it?”

He hands shot out and nearly knocked into his back. “No!” she blurted. “I mean, I do like it, but I didn’t know anything about volleyball. Even now, I’m still learning.” She fell quiet before adding, “it’s actually pretty terrifying. Tall people are really intimidating. And the ball moves so fast.” She frowned and tugged on her honeyed hair. “Everything about volleyball makes my heart race: the risk, the excitement, the surprises.”

He stopped at the bottom of the stairwell and she climbed a few steps before turning back. She was intimidated by tall people? He was fairly tall. He scrutinized her petite form and reserved demeanor. Was that why she’d been scared at their last competition?

“Do I intimidate you?” he wondered aloud.

Her mouth opened. Lips parted. Closed. A cherry blossom tongue swept across them. His own tongue wet his lips in response.

“Well, I…” her grounded eyes met his, worried expression calming slightly. “The first time we met, you weren’t standing,” she admitted, glancing away briefly. He ascended one step with genuine amusement tugging at his mouth. Her fingers played at the hem of her pale pink pullover.

“And?”

“And you were hurting, so you weren’t really scary at all. Even when you grabbed me.”

He shifted his weight and mock frowned. “I remember gently embracing you, Flower-chan. As if holding a fragile blossom,” he corrected. Pleasure glided through him as her eyes brightened. He took another step.

“You’ve only ever been nice to me. And helped me.” Her fingers came up to tap her chin. “Hinata always called you Daiou-sama and made you sound really cruel, but I think you’re just like… an invasive species? Or something like that?”

A chuckle grew into a full-blown laugh. “I’m… an invasive species? That does sound pretty bad.” He leaned toward her eyes twinkling. He may have a fascination with aliens, but he never thought he’d hear that. He basked in her presence as she scrambled for words.

The ever-present blush deepened. “I meant that even though you may outcompete others and take over new territory, in a sense, that doesn’t mean you don’t help. You’ve really pushed Kageyama-kun to improve and he wouldn’t be where he is right now without that,” she explained in a half-mumble.

“But I didn’t win,” he observed neutrally, despite the smarting pain of the healing wound.

“Not this time,” she conceded, “but you win more than you lose. And I think even though you’re done with high school, that trend won’t stop. Your skill won’t disappear after one loss, silly. If you keep practicing, you’re only going to get better.”

Her words speared him like a princess cutting down the man she intended to knight.

His chest constricted and his breath caught roughly mid-inhale. Why had he been questioning himself? The answer was so _obvious_ that it was cringe-worthy. She made the doubt that had plagued him for the last month seemed so inconsequential.

He coaxed the air to circulate smoothly in his lungs. An ostensible grin was carved on his face as he stepped up next to her. “I know, _silly_ ,” he teased, willing the light words to transform the weight in his chest. A self-deprecating chuckle rumbled out of his chest of its own accord. He was being ridiculous.

He tugged on her pig-tail when she didn’t look up.

“So, volleyball makes your heart race?” he nudged. “What part is the most exciting?”

Oikawa took the steps two at a time and Yachi followed at a more relaxed pace. Honest eyes cut a path to his imposing figure and a speculative light filtered through her iris, illuminating it. Her words were thoughtful, but lively.

“Probably when the rally goes on for a long time, but we manage to get the point.” She joined him and he led her down the bleachers. “What about you?”

He ran a hand through his hair. “Whenever the rally is prolonged, I feel like the main emotion is probably… desperation. Your muscles grow more fatigued, tension can stifle your movement, it’s easy to make mistakes. So, while I enjoy watching it, it’s actually pretty tiring to play.” He checked for her attention and found her listening attentively. “The moment that the ball hits the court can be crushing or exhilarating. When it happens multiple times in your favor, it’s easy to get caught up in the small victories and lose sight of the bigger picture. But at the same time, it can devastate a team and cause them to tilt if the rallies are unfavorable.”

“Tilt?” she asked, a small frown pinching her brow.

He waved her into the inside seat and claimed the one at the end of the row. “It’s when you make a mistake and it frustrates you enough that you make subsequent mistakes because of it. It’s a pretty brutal downward spiral.”

She sat, coal-black legging coated thighs pressed together with a hand pressing on each knee. His throat constricted pleasantly. “Have you tilted before?” Honest brown. Unmarked curiosity. His lips curved reluctantly. Yachi sure was firing multiple shots today.

“Now, now, Flower-chan, have you ever seen me tilt before?”

“Well, no? But I’ve only seen one of your matches,” she mumbled. “You’re avoiding the question,” she wheedled.

Oikawa’s lips pursed as though tasting something sour. “Iwa-chan usually kicks me if it happens,” he conceded with a pout. She tried to hide her grin under her palm. Fingers hovered over his arm briefly before slipping back to her lap.

“He’s a good friend, isn’t he?”

“Don’t know what I would do without him,” he stated after a moment of introspection. “We’ve basically been together since birth.” A fond smile curved insistently as memories flickered like an old movie.

He turned and her gaze hooked him. Her eyes were dark, reflecting shallow patterns of light. They were shuttered.

The urge whispered loudly. Comfort. Hold.

“It sounds nice.” Her melancholy tone mixed viscously.

His façade was slipping again, like mud under the constant pound of rushing water. Mahogany currents racing past the bare stones. It felt like evening. His skin prickled as though bitten by the irritated air of the darkening atmosphere.

Comfort. Hold.

Murky eyes slid out from under his desperate scrutiny.

“Look! Here they come!” she exclaimed, jumping to her feet and leaning over the empty seat in front of her. Her flaxen hair swayed with the movement.

Every time he thought he was starting to know her, something always reminded him of the distance between them. It was disconcerting for someone that prided himself on his ability to read others to be knocked down like a child that thinks he owns the world.

He folded his arms across the seatback in front of him and leaned his head on his limbs.

It was strange, learning how to become close friends with someone. Baffling at times and definitely entertaining, but strange. He hadn’t had to go through this with Iwaizumi since they had grown up in each other’s pockets and despite his flamboyant and extroverted nature, he tended to keep others at a safe distance. Close, but not too close. Far, but not too far.

Even now, as he watched her under the veil of his lashes, she didn’t seem any different than usual. Perky and bright with a smile fixed on her face. But he couldn’t shake the shadows that he’d glimpsed. Comfort. Hold.

He blew out a gusty sigh. “Honestly, the game will be pretty slow.”

“That’s okay, I’m just happy to be here.” She was radiating her contentment again. “Did you play matches at that age?”

“No. I only started playing in games in middle school, but I went to practices and camps.” He sneered internally. Nothing like Tobio who started during his second year of elementary school. That damn cute kouhai of his was an overachieving little brat.

She nodded thoughtfully.

He swiveled his head to face her fully, still cradling it lazily. “Did you play any sports?” She swayed toward him gently, gaze lowering to hold his carefully.

“No… but I did draw. Ever since I was little my mom would always keep me distracted with a sketchbook.” She fiddled with a short strand of hair. “I used to enter competitions… but I stopped,” she voiced haltingly.

Was it too raw to ask? His gaze roved across her features. Uncomfortable, but not tense.

“Why?”

“I… it- I guess it wasn’t fun anymore? It’s complicated and long and I don’t want to bother you with it,” she rambled out, barely audible. Her fingers began to war and she shifted back on her heels.

“Okay,” he conceded easily, recognizing her unease smoothly. “We can always talk about it some other time.” Her weight pressed against his ribs briefly as though yielding to a strong wind. A vulpine purr rumbled through his chest.

She retreated rapidly, nails biting into plastic as her hands found the seatback again. “I’m sorry.” Worry slithered through the words quietly and distress started to invade her scent.

He was quick to dispel her growing anxiety. “I don’t mind.” At her disbelieving look he added reluctantly, “It’s calming.” Don’t stop. He sent her a significant look as she assessed him. He grimaced mentally. Playful flirting made embarrassing concessions so much easier, but he’d already witnessed her withdrawal to that tactic. Half-hearted exasperation flowed through him.

Finally, she took a half-step toward him. He couldn’t help himself. “I don’t bite.” He unleashed a roguish smirk. She brushed into his side to avoid the fire on his lips and on her cheeks. Warmth spread from the point of contact and Oikawa’s eyes slid shut tremulously. Comfort. Hold. He clenched his biceps roughly.

It was good. But it still didn’t feel like enough. Fuck. He shoved the instincts down, forcing himself to accept what she was willingly giving. Despite the cantankerous desires, a resilient purr vibrated through him.

He reveled in the heat that floated between them, even through the winter layers. She leaned on him lightly, fingers tracing nonsensical patterns into his jacket. The silence passed back and forth like an enervated soccer ball.

“I get overwhelmed easily,” she blurted and he would’ve searched her face if it didn’t mean severing their connection. “So, if I seem reserved or closed off that’s probably why.” She gulped and his jacket pulled tight down his back. “I. Um. I’m not good with people? So… please bear with me.”

He hummed considerately around the fluctuating purr. “We’ll just have to work together because you’re not the only one with faults,” he murmured, ruthlessly shoving down the voice inside that flirtatiously claimed perfection. “Please take care of me, Flower-chan.” Her fingers chased the tension out of the fabric and he watched the children line up on the court.

She stepped away as the small gathering of parents cheered. The warmth melted, bidding farewell in a bittersweet wave.

“Ganbare, Takeru-kun!” she called, cheeks flushed a pretty coral pink. Her voice was quiet in comparison to the zealous supporters, but his nephew still managed to find them in the sparse crowd, waving wildly. Yachi’s lighthearted laugh preceded her encouraging wave. Oikawa sent one of his own to the exuberant boy.

This wasn’t so bad, sitting beside her. Close, but not too close. Far, but not too far.

The game passed lethargically with most of the points accumulating from service errors or aces. Yachi spent nearly the whole game on her feet, clapping or radiantly beaming at the children on the court. He wondered absently if she’d displayed the same fervent interest during his own match against her team. Probably. She _had_ been watching. He smirked.

After congratulating his nephew for the win and exchanging a greeting with Hayashi, Oikawa escorted the flaxen-haired omega out of the sports complex.

A happy flush decorated her cheeks. He preened a bit at the couple hours well spent.

“So, was Takeru as _awe-inspiring_ as I was?” he teased, settling into her shorter stride. She spluttered and a hot scarlet spilled across her ears.

Despite her reaction, she answered quickly. “In his own way.” The words were muffled.

He chuckled deviously.

“What kind of awe did he inspire?” he wondered aloud, slyly watching her stutter-step.

She raised a hand to rub her nose lightly. “Perseverance,” she declared finally, raising a finger in front of her. “Even though they had trouble receiving and serving, they never stopped trying.”

He hummed in agreement. The wind carried the sound away on a fast current. “And what kind of awe did I inspire?” he prodded. The eager twist of his lips tasted like ripe, sweet citrus.

“Your serves were really scary,” she started. “I thought they were going to rip off someone’s arm.” She looked a little sick and he could only imagine what was kind of scenario was playing through her head. He neutralized a snicker.

“But even when you didn’t win the point, you were really natural _._ Your team just seemed to follow your lead and you guided them without hesitation. I admire that most, I think. If it were me… I think I would be too afraid to let them down.” She let out a disheartened sigh.

This time he didn’t falter in wrapping an arm around her shoulders loosely. Their brown eyes met and he hoped she could see the appreciation in his own. Somehow, she always managed to pull the truth out of him and it made him face himself, for better or for worse.

He savored the mid-day chill that emphasized the solid heat ricocheting between their bodies.

 “It may look like I lead on the court, but often times that isn’t the case. Sometimes it’s about knowing when to encourage others, but more often it’s about knowing how to walk side-by-side. The court is shared, not owned.”

His eyes drifted to the serene, cerulean sky. Under the mid-day sun, there was more light than shadow.


End file.
